You Have Been Warned
by Faithful Magewhisper
Summary: This is the sequel to 'The Warning'. Molly battles with a risky pregnancy, Minerva is still trying to come to terms with her nightmares of the captivity and Severus embarks on his greatest adventure. Please Read & Review.
1. One Unbearably Hot Summer's Day

_**You Have Been Warned**_

**One Unbearably Hot Summer's Day**

Molly was standing in the middle of her living room at the Burrow and trying to cool off. It was unbearably hot this summer and she was heavily pregnant, adding to her discomfort. She was sweaty and tired and extremely uncomfortable. Her mind was swimming from the heat and she felt very dizzy.

She had made a decision months ago. A decision she yet had to share with her children and her husband. Molly was sick and tired of this stupid side-stepping she and Arthur had been forced to indulge. Of course she understood her two eldest sons and their protectiveness but this was Arthur they were talking about. Yes, he could show a particular streak of viciousness or anger but he was NOT Lucius Malfoy and would never hurt her.

Months had gone by since they had found out that she was carrying Lucius' child. Arthur had been true to his word. He stayed with her and acted around her as he had done in her earlier pregnancies. Now she just wanted to make up with and return to some semblance of normality.

----

Arthur sighed, shoved the pile of papers in front of him away and ran his hands distractedly through his thinning hair. He hadn't been alone with his wife in five months and the constant observation from their children was starting to wear on him. They had been married for twenty-six years and two weeks, and yet he hadn't been allowed to spend some time with his wife and try to convince her that now he knew why he had come back. Suddenly, in uncharacteristic petulance, he up-ended his desk and cursed loudly, papers scattering across the room. He sat down in his chair, trying to stop himself from chucking it across the room like a four-year-old in a temper tantrum, when a voice sounded from the doorway.

"Somebody's being naughty."

Arthur froze instantly, and looked up to see his wife, covered with a light sheen of sweat, wearing loose breeches and a light shirt.

"And who will clean this up again?" she asked with a grin, closing the door behind her. "I walk into my husband's office after months of almost separation … since our children are so very protective of me … and find him in the middle of a tantrum." She slid her swollen feet out of her shoes and wriggled her toes, trying to get more comfortable. "Now he appears completely beyond words or action, which is as uncharacteristic as the earlier tantrum." Her hands reached for the neckline of her blouse and pulled it away from her sweaty skin as she continued her slow slink towards Arthur's chair. "Happy to see me?" she purred as she kissed him on the neck.

Arthur put a hand on each side of her head and looked at her. "You're really here. I didn't just doze off over these boring reports that I've been reading."

Molly smiled slyly and slipped her arms around his shoudlers, squeezing gently.

"Does it matter?" she asked huskily.

"Yes," he answered. He pushed her hair out of her face. "I'm tired of waking up from dreams and finding you've disappeared, and worse you were never really there."

She smiled sadly and wrapped her arms tight around him, burying her face in his neck.

"I missed you too."

He hugged her just as tight and kissed her shoulder. She felt his lips spread against her neck in a smile.

"What?" she asked softly.

"Now I know you're really here. In my dreams I can't touch you and," Arthur said, his smile widening.

He turned, smothering her protests with a passionate kiss. It was pure bliss to have her in his arms again without multiple sets of eyes following his every move. He knew they still had a long way to go but the first step had been made a few days ago.

----

_Arthur couldn't sleep. With a groan of frustration he stood up and slowly made his way up the slightly squeaking stairs to the bedroom he usually shared with his Molly. Arthur saw a figure come slowly out of the bathroom one night and saw it walk towards his bedroom._

_ "Molly?"_

_The figure whirled, with a small yelp of fright. _

_ "It's me", he said and saw the dark blotch of her hand press against the white of her nightgown, over her heart._

_ "What's the matter with you, sneaking up on me like that?" she demanded furiously but in hushed tones so she wouldn't wake the children._

_ "I want to talk to you."_

_She didn't answer, but whipped round and made off down the corridor._

_ "I said, I want to talk to you", he repeated more loudly, following her._

_Her step slowed when she heard him approach. Then she slowly turned around again and faced him._

_ "You shouldn't be up walking that late at night. You have work tomorrow", she said. "I think you should go back to bed."_

_ "All right", he said and moved solidly into the centre of the corridor in front of her. "Where?"_

_ "Where?"_

_She froze, but made no pretenc__e of not understanding._

_ "Down there?" He jerked his thumb down, indicating the living room. "Or here?"_

_ "I – ah …"_

_ "You said you'd seen a marriage of obligation and one of love. And does the one exclude the other? Look – I spent months in that godforsaken, cold camping bed, thinking. And by God, I thought. I thought of staying and I thought of going. And I stayed."_

_ "So far. You don't know what you are getting yourself into."_

_ "I do! And even if I did not, I know bloody well what I'd be giving up by going."_

_He gripped her shoulder, the light gauze of her shift coarse under his hand. She was very warm._

_ "I could not go and live with myself, knowing I'd left behind my wife and her … no, OUR child." His voice dropped a little. "I could not go and live without you."_

_She hesitated, drawing back, trying to escape his hand._

_ "My father …"_

_ "Look, I'm not your bloody father! Give me credit for my own sins, at least!"_

_ "You haven't committed any sins", she said, her voice sounding choked._

_ "No, and neither have you."_

_She looked up at him and he caught the gleam of her dark, slightly slanted eyes._

_ "If I hadn't …"she began._

_ "And if I hadn't", he interrupted roughly. "Drop it, ok? It doesn't matter what you've done – or I. I said I could love this child as my own. Take her as the child of my heart, knowing she is the blood of another man and one I have good reason to hate."_

_He took her again by the shoulders and gave her a little shake._

_ "I love you more than life. And love you enough to sacrifice my own pride."_

_Molly made a small, choked noise and a pang went through him at the sound but he would not release her. Slowly her head rose and her breath was warm on his face._

_ "We have time", he said softly and knew suddenly why it had been so important to talk to her now, here in the dark. He reached for her hand and clasped it flat against his breast._

_ "Do you feel it? Do you feel my heart beat?"_

_ "Yes", she whispered and slowly brought their linked hands to her own breast, pressing his palm against the thin white gauze._

_ "This is our time", he said. "Until that shall stop – for one of us, for both – it is our time. Now. Will you waste it, Molly, because you are afraid?"_

_ "No", she said and her voice was thick but clear. "I won't."_

_----_

Arthur leaned down and kissed her forehead, smiling as he noticed the tears in her eyes. They were tears of joy now. He smiled at her and motioned for her to sit down on the couch and rest. Helping her to lift her feet up, he gently forced her to recline. Then he walked over to turn his desk right side up. He re-arranged his papers and was about to sit down when a loud thundering came at the door. He sighed, but quickly moved to the door, hoping to stop the person from disturbing Molly.

----

Lucius Malfoy was stealthily moving through the streets of London. He had cut his long hair and dyed it brown. Now he followed one of those insufferable Weasley brats around. He just had to find a way to get near Molly and kill Arthur.

----

Albus sat in the Hospital Wing on one of the beds. Suddenly he heard a frantic knock on the door. His alarms went off in his mind and he was immediately presented with a picture of Molly in pain or premature labour. Sure enough it was Arthur at the door, looking frantic.

"I need Poppy right now," Arthur said, trying to control his breathing.

"She just went into her office. She's getting some potions for me. Do you want me to get her?"

"Yes, it's Molly. Something's gone wrong with the pregnancy."

Albus' eyes widened.

"One second," he said, jumping up from the bed and running over to the door, yelling for Poppy.

"Poppy! Arthur's at the door. Something's wrong with Molly."

Poppy was instantly by his side and grabbed various bottles, vials, and pots of salve, shoving them into a bag and slinking it over her shoulder. Not bothering to put on her cloak, Poppy opened the door.

"Where is she?" she asked.

"In our room."

Poppy sprinted down the hall with Arthur close behind her.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. She's just getting terrible pains in her stomach. She's worried the baby's trying to come now."

The two burst into the room and found Molly sitting on the floor gripping Ginny's hand. Her face was pale and she was panting. Poppy kneeled down next to her and let her wand wander over her. Quickly, she used her magic to ease the contractions racking Molly's body. She saw an infection that she quickly burned away. As Molly relaxed, Poppy used her magic to look at the baby to make sure it was fine. She smiled at what she saw. When she was finished healing she said:

"Everything is going to be fine now. Molly, let's get you into bed. Slowly now, we don't want that to start again."

Ginny, Poppy and Arthur all supported Molly's weight helping her get into the bed.

"It looks like you got a small infection and that caused early labour. It's fine now. I got rid of the infection, stopped the labour and the baby is okay. However, Molly, you can't get out of bed till the baby's ready."

"What," screeched Molly. "I'm only six and half months along. That's two and a half months of sitting in bed doing nothing."

"I know," said Poppy with a grimace. "Believe me. I understand how much you dislike this, but any activity could trigger labour, and the baby wouldn't survive at this age."

"Don't worry, love. We'll find ways to keep you entertained," Arthur said, kissing her cheek.

"No love-making either," Poppy warned.

"That wasn't what I was sugg - what?! For two and a half months?" exclaimed Arthur.

Poppy narrowed her eyes.

"Excuse me, but this was already a rule. So quit your whining."

Arthur glared at her, but didn't say anything.

"We understand, Poppy", Molly said bravely and grabbed onto Arthur's hand.

Arthur smiled and put his arms around Molly, one hand resting on her belly. They both looked deeply into each other's eyes, Arthur trying to reassure the love of his life and Molly drawing on his inner strength to pull her through whatever crisis life threw at her. Albus was reassured that his wife's closest friend and her husband seemed to still love each other deeply and trusted that the child would not change that.


	2. Nightmare

**Nightmares**

Albus came home to the silent apartment he shared with his wife in the Headmaster's Tower and went upstairs to see if Minerva had come home after her meeting with the staff to prepare for the next school year. He opened the bedroom door to see her sleeping soundly on the bed. Sprawled out beside his lovely wife was Pomona, snoring softly, and Poppy was curled up in the big armchair near the window. They all looked adorable as they slept, oblivious to his presence. From her position on the bed, he could tell that Pomona had not meant to fall asleep and that she had dozed off while keeping Minerva company.

Albus went over to the king sized bed and gave Minerva a kiss on her forehead. His wife wrinkled her nose and mumbled something, still fast asleep. Albus smiled. When was the last time he had done that? He could barely remember kissing Minerva before she went to bed before her captivity. But ever since he had been so close to lose her, he was more affectionate than ever before, almost like newlyweds. He kneeled down beside her and brushed a stray hair from her face. Even in her sleep she looked troubled. He wondered if she was having a nightmare again, wishing he could be the one fighting them all off and whatever she was afraid of but he knew that he couldn't. Not until she talked to him. Albus placed a gentle kiss on her forehead again and sighed.

He went downstairs into his study and sat on his chair. He had said he would protect her when he married her and he had failed so terribly it was killing him. He still hadn't made his peace with the events seven months earlier

Albus snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Pomona's voice sailing downstairs.

"Albus! Hurry and come up!" Her voice sounded frantic and panicked.

Albus burst out of his study and rushed upstairs to the bedroom he shared with his wife. His eyes darted to Pomona who was trying to calm a hysterical Minerva. One moment, she was silent, refusing to talk and then suddenly she was frightened like a child. Her moods were fluctuating and she was emotionally charged.

"Albus … She was … I don't know what happened …" Poppy stammered. "She woke up screaming …"

"Minerva, calm down", Albus said as calmly as he could, walking towards the bed. Minerva's cheeks were flushed and her eyes were pools of flame. He was taken aback at how different she looked and immediately pulled her into his arms, not caring if she fought him. To his relief, she settled into his embrace, trembling. Minerva was not crying although she wished she could. It would be so much easier to cry but she couldn't, the whirlpool of emotions locked up inside of her.

Pomona and Poppy looked on, pale and scared. They had no idea what to do so they just stood there, next to the bed, as their headmaster comforted his wife, their friend.

Minerva buried her face in his chest, breathing deeply, taking comfort in Albus' scent. He smelled like he had always smelled.

She felt as though an avalanche had happened, burying her alive. She was suffocating and she didn't know what to do; unable able to claw her way out, waiting for someone to rescue her before the air ran out. But nobody knew the avalanche had happened and that she was under its thick snow, she felt her heart pounding in her chest. Grabbing on to her husband's shirt, she tried hard to calm down, praying that he would find her in time.

Albus had finally managed to calm Minerva down, slowly soothing her, encouraging her to continue sleeping and comforting her by telling her over and over again that he would be there immediately if she should need him. Then he motioned for the two witches to follow him downstairs into his office.

After five decades of marriage, Albus had never seen Minerva so troubled before. He closed his eyes briefly and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Albus?" Poppy asked gently, coming over to him and placing her hand on his shoulder.

Albus opened his eyes and gazed at his matron.

"Yes, sorry. I was a little preoccupied…"

"It's okay. We all are", she said comfortingly.

He watched Poppy who was sitting on the couch opposite him and marvelled at how beautiful she was. But Poppy was also very strong, he thought. He knew that she was strong. After all she had gone through a lot of hardship herself and pulled through victorious. Surely she could help his wife recover mentally for good.

"Albus, I've been meaning to ask you this but I totally forgot about it, but now that Minerva's asleep …"

Albus nodded, silently telling her that he was all ears. Poppy edged on her seat and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

"Before Minerva had this nightmare or even went to sleep, her eyes became glassy and heavy and she mentioned something about a party. She seemed to be confused by something but I didn't ask. I didn't want to push her, you know?"

Albus nodded again. There were still secrets she hadn't confided to him or Dr. Thornton about.

"What party?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking you. She mentioned a party. I don't think she consciously mentioned it but she did say it. Does it mean anything? She said, 'There was a party' and then it was as though she didn't say it."

Albus sat up straight.

"What on earth was she talking about?" he asked, more to himself than for Poppy or Pomona to hear anyway. "What party?"

The witch straightened up, shrugging her shoulders.

"That's just it, Albus. It doesn't make sense."

Albus stood up and started to pace the space in between the couch and the table.

"She's confused", he stated, shaking his head. His darling Tabby was losing control … "I don't think she knew what she was saying …"

"Whatever it was, she's in shock. I know she overcame this Stockheim Syndrome or what it's called but she still needs to talk to someone. Anyone. She needs to go for counselling with Dr. Thornton again."

Pomona was being as practical as possible because she knew that without practicality, she would be out of her mind and thus, useless.

"We have to do something. Those nightmares she's been having… They're really bad", agreed Poppy.

Albus nodded again and resumed his seat on the couch. He would have to do something about it. It wasn't something that would just go away. He felt it in his gut. He hesitated for a moment before he spoke.

"Perhaps … perhaps we could see Dr. Thornton again … He might know how to help her."

Albus, in a brief moment of uncertainty, looked at Poppy and silently asked for her opinion.

"That's … I think that's a good idea."

"I'll feleton him … I don't want to leave her alone", Albus said and both witches nodded.

"Alright. Whatever you say", Pomona told him and Albus smiled warmly at her.

He knew his wife well enough to know that she didn't like to talk to other people about things like these. She didn't like people to know that she could and sometimes did feel afraid and vulnerable. It was one of the few things that worried him. He felt helpless and he didn't know what to do or say. He knew that his wife would never want anyone to know about the nightmares, whatever they were about. Minerva had never liked anyone to see her weak, especially her children and students.

"But these nightmares are very, very severe. Sometimes, when they are really bad, she won't sleep. I can prescribe her sleeping draughts."

Albus nodded, looking slightly defeated. He hated to think that his beloved wife could become addicted to drugs.

"Good then I'll prescribe her some sleeping pills and they should let her sleep better." Poppy nodded, addressing Albus sincerely, "But if this goes on and becomes worse, she needs to speak to someone. Rape is a very, very traumatic experience. She might be moody sometimes or she might just start crying. She might even suffer from depression. If she talks, listen to her and most of all, show her that it isn't her fault."

"Of course it's not her fault!" Albus exclaimed. "I already told her that. She seemed fine but ... it's just lately that she is having these nightmares."

Albus just nodded and then left the two witches to stare after him as he walked back up to their bedroom. He silently watched his sleeping wife as he sat on a chair he had pulled up beside the bed. He really didn't want to wake her.

Without him realizing it, Minerva had been awake for quite some time but pretended to be asleep so that she didn't have to face her husband. She could feel his presence and she could feel him watching her without even opening her eyes. She stayed as still as possible and tried to ignore the faint annoyance that was creeping into her heart. She didn't want to talk about what happened earlier. Albus had calmed her down and she had fallen asleep again. She still couldn't believe that she had actually lost control over her feelings, the fear and violence that plunged her dreams. Poppy and Pomona had looked so scared but she couldn't keep it all in. It was something Minerva had always been good at keeping her feelings to herself. And she hated to think that she might lose this ability, since it had always protected her. It was her armour, something that made sure she didn't appear vulnerable.

She found herself dreading the time when sleep would claim her just because her body was too tired. How she hated her body now! It was not hers to control. At least that was what she felt. Her body rebelled against her and those thoughts caused her to shudder involuntarily, making Albus realize that she was awake.

"Tabby? Are you awake?"

His voice was soft. She cursed herself mentally and forced herself not to show her annoyance. She didn't like telling people that she was afraid or sad or hurt - at least not when she could control what she was saying.

Minerva nodded gently, afraid that she would snap if she said something. She was annoyed at herself for breaking down like she had. And what was worst was that it had been her friends who were witness to it. She sighed softly.

"What time is it?"

"It's nine o'clock. After dinner time. Are you hungry?"

"No. I don't feel like eating."

Minerva noticed that Albus looked apprehensive. She knew that what had happened affected him as well.

"Was there something you wanted?" she asked gently, not wanting him to feel as though she didn't want him there. She did, she just didn't want to risk talking to him now. He would most probably be listening intently to what she said, and only God knew when she might slip and say something else. Something else.

"Tabby, are you feeling well?" Albus asked when he saw that there was a troubled expression on her face.

Snapping out of her thoughts, she nodded, "Yes, well… Yes," she confirmed.

Albus reached out and took her hands into his.

"Tabby, what are those nightmares about?"

Minerva stared at their entwined hands.

"Albus, please don't bring that up."

Her tone was cold and firm as if she was instructing the maid to clean the windows. It was then that he knew she was avoiding the topic. He had known that was how she would react. Albus felt a stab of pain in his heart, feeling as if he was causing the pain to return to her again. She was already hurt enough now.

"Please tell me. I need to know what is causing you so much pain. I want to make it go away. I want to help you and be there for you. But I can't as long as you won't let me, Tabby."

Albus stroked the top of her hand with his thumb. Her hand seemed so small in his and he realized that she seemed small as well. Minerva looked back up at him.

"Minerva …"

"Albus, it is not something I want to discuss right now."

She was silently begging him to drop the subject. A dozen thoughts raced through her mind and she swallowed, trying to get rid of the feeling in her throat. She felt as though she couldn't breathe even if she wanted to.

"Minerva." He spoke her name firmly and she looked up at him.

She hated that she could feel tears burning behind her eyes. She had to escape. Minerva immediately threw the blanket aside and got up from the bed. She rushed into the bathroom and stared into the mirror. Her reflection gazed back at her - mocking her. Dark shadows under her eyes and a haunted look in her eyes. She couldn't have looked worse. She turned on the tap and splashed water onto her face before taking a towel, wiping it dry again and never stopping gazing at herself.

_----_

_Minerva slammed the bedroom door behind her and locked it. Then she immediately started to remove her dress with trembling fingers, not caring if she tore it. There were some patches of dried fluid on the soft fabric. It was a tainted dress. Like her body. Why did she keep on thinking of the word? _

_Tainted. _

_She was tainted. _

_She wrapped herself in a tow__el and removed her underwear. She went into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. Her reflection in the mirror told her that she was covered in fading bruises. _

_Gingerly, she touched herself and winced when she felt a stinging pain. She brought her hands up to see that her fingers were tinged slightly reddish. She removed her towel and stepped into the shower. She was careful to scrub everything. Everywhere. She scrubbed herself over and over again until her skin was pinkish. _

_She needed to wash, to clean herself. She was dirty. She was tainted._

_Tainted. _

_That damned word! It was in the shower that she allowed herself to cry. When water was pouring over her face, nobody could see her tears. _

----

Minerva spun around when she heard a knock on the door.

"Minerva?" It was Albus. "Are you all right?"

She didn't want to go out. She didn't want to talk. They didn't understand and she didn't want to tell them anything. What would they all think if they'd know?

"I'm fine, Albus," she forced herself to say.

"Will you open the door?" he asked, worried.

Minerva looked around her and quickly flushed the toilet and turned on the tap, pretending to wash her hands.

"I'll be right out," she said and moved to open the door.

Minerva stepped out of the bathroom and bit her lower lip to prevent it from quivering. She hated that she could remember everything in detail. She hated that after she worked so hard to banish the memory of it from her mind and bury it deep within her soul, it was starting to return, attacking her sanity. Albus looked concerned, the same expression on his face ever since last night.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

Minerva tried hard to swallow the annoyance she began to feel.

"Yes, I'm fine. I am going to take a shower. You know that I like to stay clean," she said, thinking up a dozen things to occupy her mind. She really needed a shower. One where she could scrub and scrub until her skin tingled and was tinted pink and she longed for a shower like that.

Albus nodded and crossed his arms. "Minerva …"

Minerva tensed when she heard the tone in his voice. He was going to continue the conversation. Didn't he know how much it pained her to even think about it? No, of course he didn't. How could he know? She took a deep breath and answered, "Yes, Albus?"

"Don't avoid the topic. Please, Minerva," his voice was stern but his eyes where begging. "You can't hide it all inside."

She firmed her voice and looked at him defiantly.

"I don't want to talk about it," she told him and felt his gaze drilling into her soul, searching within its depths. "I don't need to talk about what happened to anyone. I've got through it."

Albus felt hot white pain rip through his very soul and a headache beginning to pound in his head.

"Minerva, please let me in."

"I-I can't … I-" Her voice was starting to shake and she knew it. She desperately clung onto her resolve instead of giving in to her need to break down, to tell the man she loved everything. "Please, Albus …" Her exterior was starting to crack beneath his gaze and she clenched her fists, willing herself to not break before him. She turned towards the bathroom again.

"Then tell me what it is. Let me help you. Talk to me."

"I'll be fine. I promise." She turned from him.

"You're not fine, Minerva. You are not fine. Don't promise me."

Minerva turned back to face him and Albus was surprised to see the pain and sadness in her eyes. She pleaded with her eyes. When she sensed that he wasn't going to back away, she withdrew from him.

"There's nothing to discuss," she said abruptly, pulling herself together. Albus was taken aback by the sudden coldness of his wife. Decades of marriage had taught him when Minerva was shutting down emotionally. "Please leave. I need to take a shower."

Albus went closer to her and she shrank away from him.

"Minerva, don't shut me out."

She turned her back to him and started to walk towards the bathroom.

"Close the door when you leave, Albus," she said, not looking back until she heard the door shut.

----

Albus stood in front of the door and sighed. She was closing up and it was entirely his fault. He waited outside, leaning against the wall and listening to the movements in the bedroom. He had to strain to hear as Minerva, in her cat-like grace, never made any noise when she walked. He heard the distant sound of the shower as she turned it off after what seemed to be forever and strained harder to hear more in case something happened. She might not want him in there taking care of her now but that didn't mean that he couldn't stay outside and still take care of her. All these years, Minerva had been the one caring for him, taking care of his needs and wants. She had been a wonderful wife and he knew it. Now, he decided, when she was wounded and broken like she was he would take care of her.

He returned his attention to the door, again straining to hear if she might need him in any way. He would be there for her.

----

The water from the shower head sprayed onto Minerva's back, the sound of it hitting her body was the only thing she heard.

Minerva allowed herself to briefly wonder if she had pushed Albus away so much that he didn't know how to come back to her. Perhaps she had. Perhaps he didn't want to come near her anymore because he sensed that she was dirty.

_No, Minerva McGonagall Dumbledore! Don't think like that! Albus__ cares about you…_

The water cascaded off her lithe form and onto the already flooding tiled floor. Minerva stood still for a while until finally, she started to scrub herself. She scrubbed hard and she was sure to wash every tiny part of her body. Despite the fact that her skin was already beginning to turn raw pink and was also starting to sting, Minerva couldn't help herself but to keep on scrubbing until her muscles ached. There were no tears to cry but there was plenty of dirt to wash away from her body. She was dirty and so the only thing Minerva could do was to wash it all away. Leaning against the cool tiles when she had tire herself scrubbing her body, Minerva fought the urge to scream. It was like a bubble caught in her chest and Minerva, closing her eyes, took several deep breaths to sooth her nerves.

The sharp tapping against the door startled Minerva and her eyes flew open. Coming to her senses and realizing that she had been standing under the running water for quite some time already, Minerva turned off the shower and moved to get her towel.

"Tabby?"

"Yes, Albus," she replied, drying off herself.

"Are you all right? You've been in there for quite some time already."

"I'm fine."

Not bothering to glance at the mirror this time, Minerva wrapped herself in her bathrobe and opened the door only to be hit by the seemingly unnatural cold air of the room. Not being able to suppress a shudder than ran through her body, Minerva winced when she came face to face with Albus.

A quick glance at his wife and Albus could tell that there was something wrong. He reached out to take her hand in his and lifted her arm so that he could see the pinkish tint of her skin more closely.

"Minerva!"

It was a rush of whisper, not loud enough to indicate his shock and yet, Minerva could feel the worry radiating off him. She snatched her hand out of his hold and pulled the bathrobe closer around herself.

"I'm fine."

He didn't let her pass.

"What happened?"

Minerva frowned. She wasn't going to tell him everything. What would he think of her then? Was she crazy?

"What do you mean?"

It was a habit for Minerva to evade questions from her husband by asking a question herself. It was a game to her. It had been a game to her. Now, she held onto this skill for dear life to try and escape this situation.

"You know what I mean, Minerva. Look at this!" Albus exclaimed and grabbed her wrist, pushing the large sleeves of her bathrobe well above her elbow. "Your skin is scrubbed raw!"

"It's not!" Mina snapped, knowing that all hope of escaping were gone unless she showed her annoyance and anger.

"Minerva! Please!" Albus was at the point of begging. He was truly lost. "Do you need to talk?"

"No."

Silence fell upon them like a curtain, and Albus was no longer able to read his wife like before. It frustrated him, the fact that an ability that he had worked on so hard to claim as his own - the ability to read his wife - had been taken away from him. Standing before him was the woman that he loved. He loved her. So why was it so hard to understand that he couldn't afford to be selfish and needed to give her time and space?

Not when she is hurting herself, a small voice in his head told him.

He took a step closer and Minerva took a steady step back. He mentally kicked himself as he figured he was most probably frightening her. She turned around and was ready to make her way to the closet when Albus caught hold of her shoulders and pivoted her around to face him. It took all his willpower to keep himself from shaking her. Didn't she know that she could let him know anything? Why did she have to be so damn stubborn? And proud?!

"Please, Albus, I ... I love you but I need to figure this out all alone. Please."

Albus stared at her and then, without any hesitation, pulled Mina to him and wrapped his arms securely around her. She stiffened at the sudden contact and her muscles tensed.

_Run! _

_No, Mina! Don't run! It's Albus__! _

_It's Albus__. He loves you._

"I didn't want to scare you or push you too much," he told her, holding her to his body. "I didn't want to frighten you, Tabby. I'm truly sorry."

_Albus won't hurt you…_

He felt her start to relax against him but was wary and didn't try to pull her any closer in case she should feel uncomfortable. Minerva didn't move from her position and stayed wrapped in his arms.

"I felt dirty."

Albus' heart dropped lower than his stomach and yet, he was elevated by the fact that she was willing to open up to him. He stayed quiet, willing her to talk.

"It was as though if I washed - if I just washed hard enough, long enough … I wanted the feeling to go away."

He held his breath to make sure he would catch every one of the muffled words that were being said into his chest. He pulled both her hands up and gazed at her, kissing her knuckles.

"You scrubbed yourself?"

Minerva nodded and then looked away, ashamed that he was seeing her so weak. Yet, she couldn't help it. She wasn't accustomed to feeling so weak and so vulnerable and yet, the tiredness that was in her body didn't disappear no matter how much she rested.

"Oh, Tabby …" he breathed, his eyes glazing over and almost instantly regaining their clarity. "You're not dirty. You're not at all. Never think that."

He took her left hand and brushed it against his cheek.

"Look," he said, bringing her hands to her view and making sure she was looking at her own limbs. "You're hurting yourself."

Minerva felt stinging in her eyes when she realized just how horrible what she had done to herself was. Dear God, her skin was scrubbed raw. But Minerva felt numb. That was why she couldn't feel the stinging when the rough fabric of her bathrobe rubbed against her body, she thought. All feeling had been tuned out from her brain.

Pathetic. That was her first thought. She was pathetic.

His voice brought her attention back to him.

"Don't hurt yourself. You're not dirty. I love you. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"I love you," Albus repeated, gazing intently into her eyes.

_Don't be afraid. Mina. It's Albus. You love Albus__._

"I know." Minerva smiled - this time the smile reached her eyes.

"You'll be all right, Mina," he whispered, confidently.

Perhaps to encourage her, she thought. She only wished that she could share his belief.


	3. Jealously Is an Incredible Force Indeed

**Jealousy I****s an Incredible Force Indeed**

Narcissa was approaching The Burrow quickly. There was a distinct bounce to her steps and a sensual sway to her hips. She was not usually this happy and carefree but today was a special day and she was invited to celebrate with her two best friends. Molly and Minerva had certainly helped her in the last months to build up her self-esteem. The other person had been Severus of course.

Smiling shyly, Narcissa remembered the last few days. Severus had helped her clean out the secret storage room in Malfoy Manor. He had expertly destroyed most of the dark objects and entrusted the others to the Ministry of Magic. The most powerful and dangerous objects had naturally gone to Hogwarts so that they could never be used for evil again. Dumbledore himself had taken it upon himself to either destroy them or find a hiding place for them.

Over the course of their exploits Narcissa and Severus had slowly come closer. Narcissa had always felt attracted to the young Head of House of her son. He was unreadable but gentle under the hard surface he put on to impress the arrogant, pure-blooded fathers of his Slytherins. Now it seemed that he felt, for the first time in his life, free to show his caring and loving side. Narcissa was over the moon that he showed _her_ that side of him. She had really come to care deeply for him.

As Narcissa was approaching the front law with the chicken scattered everywhere, she felt like she was coming home. The Burrow had really become a second ... no the first home she had ever had. Her parents' house had been cold and oppressive. Hogwarts had then been wonderfully warm, colourful and heaven. After her wedding though, she had gone back to a cold and oppressive home. Only this time her husband was her oppressor.

After being inducted into the Order of the Phoenix and finding real friends for the first time in her life, Narcissa finally understood love, loyalty and happiness. She chuckled softly, remembering her own surprise over all the things she had learned from the Weasleys about love and marriage, what she had learned from Albus Dumbledore about silent support and undying love, what she had learned from Severus ...

Narcissa blushed deeply at the memory of their last meeting. Both of them had bent down for the same box and bumped their heads together lightly. She had jumped in surprise and hastened to apologize but Severus had silently shaken his head. Something in his dark, obsidian eyes had changed all of a sudden and both had felt the crackle of electricity between them. They had leaned forward slightly but before their lips had met Kreacher had appeared, ready to help them clean up. The old house-elf had been a very observant and slightly annoying chaperon but Severus had managed to hold her back at the end of the day, securing a few minutes alone with her. And then he had asked her out. For a date! A real date! With someone she really cared for and not just a forced social engagement with the boy her parents had picked out. She was ecstatic!

Barely concealing her gleeful and happy embarrassment, Narcissa knocked on the door and then proceeded to step in, not waiting for an answer. Immediately she walked over to the living room where she knew Molly was resting in the rocking chair. Narcissa could hardly suppress the grin when she saw the agitated look on Molly's face. She knew how much her friend hated to be forced to be idle.

Minerva sat next to Molly on the couch, trying to suppress her own laughter. She was unsuccessful since her eyes shone merrily and a huge grin was spreading on her face. Both witches knew that this must be hell for Molly. They shared a conspiratorially look and hid their faces.

Molly sighed in frustration and resignation. At least they had their fun.

----

Arthur was approaching his home eagerly. Finally he was home from work. Finally he could wrap his arms around his wife and reassure himself that she was fine. Reminding himself to thank Minerva and Narcissa for staying with Molly for the day, he walked through the door into the kitchen.

And then stopped, flabbergasted.

Molly was sitting at the kitchen table with a smirch of flour on her nose and flour-dust sprinkled in her hair. She was decorating a cake with icing. Narcissa stood over her with her sleeves rolled up and industriously kneading the dough for another cake. Her hair had slightly come undone and she was dusted over with flour as well. But her face shone happily and carelessly. Minerva was in front of the hearth, cooking their dinner. Her eyes were full of laughter and happiness.

Looking further into the house, Arthur noticed his children, Harry and Hermione busily cleaning the living room and setting the table.

"Albus is picking you up after dinner, isn't he?" Molly's voice asked and drew her husband's attention back to her.

"Oh yes", assured Minerva, "he is actually coming over _for_ dinner."

Narcissa chuckled lightly.

"Won't he be disappointed that he has to go without Lemon Drops for once?" she asked mischievously.

"I'm sure he'll survive", Minerva muttered but love shone in her eyes.

"Barely", agreed a voice behind Arthur, causing the women to turn around in surprise.

Seeing Albus and Arthur standing in the entrance, Molly tried to stand up but was restraint almost instantly by Narcissa. Minerva glared at her as well and Molly only sighed in defeat, sitting down again.

Arthur chuckled softly and walked over to his wife. Bending down, he placed a feather-light kiss on her forehead, being rewarded with a beautiful smile from his beautiful wife.

"How have you been, darling?" he asked, eyeing her sternly.

"I've been good", Molly stated defensively. "Narcissa and Minerva have been all over me, not letting me get up and watching my every move."

"Good", breathed Arthur and leaned in again, kissing her nose lightly and then her lips.

Molly leaned into his touch, savouring every second of it. Ever since her traumatic captivity she never took anything for granted, especially not Arthur's tenderness and love. She couldn't forget the terrifying moments in which she had thought she had lost him. But lately he was back to normal. He seemed to have accepted her pregnancy and that her child was Lucius'.

When he broke their tender kiss, she smiled up at him and stroked his cheek.

Albus was approaching his own wife and wrapped his arm gently around her waist. He was happy that Arthur's and Molly's marriage had survived all the hardship but he was still fighting for his own. Brushing his lips over his wife's temple, he leaned over and watched her stir the soup for their Entrée. His heart was jubilating because she hadn't pulled away from him.

Narcissa was watching the scene wistfully, longing for the same support and homely idyll as her friends had. Her eyes misted over and she wiped at them angrily. Her friends deserved this love.

Albus had just turned around to ask the others if they were ready for dinner, when he saw Narcissa wiping at her eyes. It hurt his heart to see her like this. He knew that his former student had not had a happy childhood and an even worse marriage. Sympathy welled in his heart and he just hoped that Severus would never hurt her like Lucius had done. He decided to have a serious chat with his potions master.

Shortly before dinner Albus was suddenly aware that Narcissa inched quietly towards the door and disappeared outside. Without hesitation he followed her out.

Narcissa was sitting on the fence behind the house. The air had chilled considerably and she knew that she had to go in again soon but right now she needed a moment for herself. She wasn't aware of Albus watching her intently before finally deciding to approach her until he slid the heavy folds of her cloak around her shoulders. She hadn't realized quite how cold it was until she felt the contrasting warmth of the velvet.

Albus' arms came around her with the cloak, and she turned slightly to thank him.

"I could see you shivering from the house," he said, taking her hands in his. "You'll catch a cold, if you stay out here. Care to share your worries?"

"I'll be fine," she assured half-heartedly. She twisted about to look at him. "I only felt ... well, so left out", she admitted, casting her eyes down.

Albus nodded solemnly and smiled at her softly. He had this irresistible urge to wrap his arms around her and protect her. Somehow she reminded him of his youngest daughter. Her eyes were as expressive as hers had been and her smile sometimes resembled that of his daughter, shy and insecure.

"Never worry, lass," he said softly and stroked her cheek with a finger. "My darling wife and Molly really care for you. They are your friends now and believe me they won't let you down, ever. You can rely on them."

Without really thinking, just feeling the need to be hugged from a father figure, Narcissa leaned forward slightly and nestled against Albus' chest.

"Thank you," she mumbled softly.

"That's quite alright, lass," chuckled Albus and wrapped his arms around her.

Just then both heard a faint gasp and turned around to find Minerva standing in the doorway with Albus' cloak in her arms. Tears sprang to her eyes and she dropped the cloak heedlessly onto the ground. Then she turned on the spot, vanishing into thin air.

"Oh dear," muttered Narcissa, "I think she took something the wrong way."

"I better go talk to her", Albus replied feebly.

Narcissa nodded but Albus didn't notice that anymore.

----

Between fatigue, hunger, disappointment, and uncertainty, Minerva had succeeded in reducing herself to such a state of confused misery that she could neither sleep nor sit still. Instead, she roamed unhappily about the room, picking up objects and putting them down at random.

The draft from the opening door upset the delicate equilibrium of the comb she had been balancing on its end, heralding Albus' return. He looked faintly flushed and oddly excited.

"Oh, you're awake", he said, obviously surprised and disconcerted to find her so.

"Yes", Minerva said unkindly, "were you hoping I'd be asleep so you could go back to her?"

His brows drew together for a moment, then rose in inquiry.

"Her? To Narcissa, you mean?"

Hearing her name spoken in that casual lit of his suddenly made her irrationally angry.

"Oh, so you _have_ been with her?" Minerva snapped.

Albus looked puzzled and wary, and slightly annoyed.

"Yes", he said, "I met her in the garden as I went out, you saw us. Are you well, Tabby? You look a bit pale, all in all."

He eyed her appraisingly. Minerva picked up the looking glass from the table, and found that her hair was standing out in a bushy mane round her head and there were dark circles under her eyes. And above all she did look rather pale. She put it down again with a thump.

"No, I'm perfectly all right", she said, with an effort at controlling herself. "And how is Narcissa?" she asked, assuming casualness.

"Oh, quite well", he said. Albus leaned back against the door, arms crossed, watching his wife speculatively. "A bit surprised to hear we were back from the Highlands, I reckon."

"Well", Minerva said, and took a deep breath. She looked up to see him grinning at her.

"You would not be worried over the lassie, would you now, Tabby?" he asked shrewdly. "She's nothing to you – or me", he added.

"Oh, no? I ..."

Albus crossed the room in two steps and took her by the hands, interrupting her. He put a finger under her chin and forced her gaze up.

"Minerva," he said evenly, "I have always been honest with you. The girl has no claim on me beyond that of courtesy and gratitude. She helped to save your life after all." He squeezed her chin lightly. "But that claim she has, and I'll honour it." He released her chin and chucked her softly under it. "Do you hear me, Tabby."

"Oh, I hear!" Minerva jerked free, rubbing her chin resentfully. "And I'm sure you'll be very courteous to her. But next time please don't do it in front of me – I don't want to see it."

His white brows shot up, and his face, reddened slightly.

"Are you suggesting I've played you false?" he said, unbelievingly. "We've been back to the Castle less than an hour, I'm so tired my knees wobble and yet you think I've gone straight out to seduce a woman who could be my daughter?" He shook his head, looking stunned. "I cannot tell whether you mean to compliment my virility, Minerva, or insult my morals, but I don't care much for either suggestion." He ran a large hand through his hair, making the ends stick out wildly.

"Of course I don't mean I think you've been seducing her," Minerva said, struggling to inject an air of calmness into her tone. "All I mean ..." It occurred to her that she was probably hurting him but she was angry nonetheless and felt common sense slip from her grasp. "I simply mean that ... that I realize that you married me when I was young and still whole ... I think you loved me but that was before ...," she added hastily, "and that I have no claim at all on you anymore. You're at perfect liberty to behave as you wish. If you ... if there's an attraction elsewhere ... I mean ... I won't stand in your way," Minerva finished lamely. The blood was hot in her cheeks and she could feel her ears burning.

Looking up, she found that Albus' ears were burning as well, visibly, and so was the rest of him from the neck up. Even his eyes, bloodshot from lack of sleep, seemed to be flaming slightly.

"No claim on me!" he exclaimed. "And what do you think a wedding vow is, lassie? Just words in a church?" He brought one big fist down on the chest with a crash that shook the porcelain ewer. "No claim," he muttered, as though to himself. "At liberty to behave as I wish. And you'll not stand in my way?!"

He bent to pull off his boots, then picked them up and threw them, one after the other, as hard as he could at the wall. Minerva winced as each one thudded off the stones and bounced to the floor. He yanked off his cloak and tossed it heedlessly behind him. Then he started toward her, glaring.

"So you've no claim on me, Minerva? You'll free me to take my pleasure where I like, is that it? Well, is it?" he demanded.

"Er, well, yes," Minerva said, taking a step backward despite herself. "That's what I meant."

He grabbed her arms, and she found the combustion had spread to his hands as well. His callused palms were so hot on her skin that she jerked involuntarily.

"Well, if you've no claim on me, Minerva," he said, "I've one on you! Come here."

He took her face in his hands and set his mouth on hers. There was nothing either gentle or undemanding about that kiss, and she fought against it, trying to pull back from him. He bent and scooped her up with an arm under her knees, ignoring her attempts to get down. Minerva hadn't realized just how bloody strong he really was.

"Let go of me!" I said. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Well, I should have thought that was reasonably clear, Minerva," he said through his teeth. He lowered his head, the clear gaze piercing her like a hot iron. "Though if you want telling," he said, "I mean to take you to bed. Now. And keep you there until you've learned just what claim I have on you." And he kissed her again, deliberately hard, cutting off her protests.

"I don't want to sleep with you!" Minerva said, when at last he freed her mouth.

"I don't intend to sleep, Tabby," he replied evenly. "Not just yet." He reached the bed and set her carefully on the rose-patterned quilt.

"You know bloody well what I mean!" she rolled, meaning to escape from the other side, but was stopped by a solid grip on her shoulder that flipped her back to face him. "I don't want to make love with you, either!"

Blue eyes blazed down at her from close range, and her breath came thick in my throat.

"I don't ask your preferences in the matter," he answered, voice dangerously low. "You are my wife, as I've told you often enough. If you don't wish to wed me, still you chose to. And if you don't happen to notice at the time, your part of the proceedings included the word 'obey'. You're my wife, and if I want you, woman, then I'll have you, and be damned to you!"

His voice rose throughout, until he was near shouting. Minerva rose to her knees, fists balled at her sides, and shouted back at him. The contained misery of the last months had reached explosion point and she let him have it, point blank.

"I _will_ be damned if I'll have _you_, you bullying swine! You think you can order me to your bed? Use me like a whore when you feel like it? Well, you can't, you fucking bastard! Do that, and you're no better than Tom Riddle!"

He glared at her for a moment, then stood abruptly aside.

"Leave then," he said, jerking his head toward the door. "If that's what you think of me, go! I'll not stop you!"

Minerva hesitated for a moment, watching him. His jaw was clenched with anger and he was looming over her like a giant. His temper this time was under tight rein, though he was as angry now as he had been at the Riddle Mansion. But he meant it. If Minerva chose to leave, he wouldn't stop her. She lifted her chin, her own jaw clenched as tightly as his.

"No," she said. "No. I don't run away from things. And I'm not afraid of you."

His gaze fastened on her throat, where her pulse was going at a frantic rate.

"Yes, I see," he said. Albus stared down at her, and his face gradually relaxed into a look of grudging acquiescence. He sat down gingerly on the bed, keeping a good distance between us, and Minerva sat back warily. He breathed deeply several times before speaking, his face fading a bit toward its natural colour.

"I don't run either, Tabby," he said gruffly.


	4. Close Call

**Close Calls**

Severus paced his living room with wide strides, waving his wand left and right. The windows shut themselves, the sofa pulled itself out and pillows and a spare blanket flew from his bedroom over to the sofa, draping themselves on it. Then the potions master went over to his wardrobe and pulled out some pyjamas. With a disgusted look towards the sofa, he threw his night clothes onto it and sighed heavily.

'Why is Dumbledore here? Of all the places he could go he comes to me! Why is it always me?' he thought desperately.

Without him noticing Albus had entered the room behind him. Watching the younger man pacing the room, Albus could easily imagine what went on through his mind. Severus never understood that he reminded both Minerva and himself of their dead son. The way he scowled whenever he was told to do something but ending up doing it anyway. The way he tried to hide his real feelings behind a dark mask of disapproving. Albus had to smile at his young friend and his obvious discomfort at having him stay in his rooms.

"I'm so sorry to intrude on you," he said softly, causing Severus jump none the less. "Minerva is in a bit of a ... well, she ... I ..."

"No need to explain, Albus," Severus said sympathetically, turning to his Headmaster and eyeing him strangely.

"Albus, are you sure you don't want to talk about this? I've always respected you so much; too much to let you wallow in whatever you're feeling ... I'm here if you need to talk anything out."

Albus nodded absent-mindedly, but kept staring into the fire, too lost in his own thoughts to really appreciate his words. He had too much to think about before he could even voice his fears and worries and doubts.

----

In the middle of the night, Ginny was awakened by a knock on her door. Mumbling something inaudible into her pillow she just rolled over and went back to sleep. But the knocking persisted and finally Ginny got out of bed and stumbled towards the door.

Her mother stood there, looking pale and almost panicky.

"M-M-Mommy?" Ginny yawned before shaking off her fatigue. "What's the matter?"

Molly didn't answer her daughter immediately but pressed a hand to her stomach.

"Mom! You shouldn't be out of bed! It's not good for the baby!" her daughter exclaimed.

Her voice was rising because she had a strong feeling that something was terribly wrong with her mother. Molly grabbed Ginny's arm and gently drew her closer. Smiling kindly at her, Molly tried to sound calm and strong even though she felt everything but.

"Ginny, my dear, the baby is coming. I went into labour. You have to wake your brothers and inform the Order ... and I might need your help."

Ginny's eyes bugged out and she paled noticeably. Swallowing hard, she remembered that her mother was probably more scared than she was and that it was time to be strong for her mother.

"Alright, Mommy. Let's get you back to your bed though before I tell the others."

And with that she wrapped one arm around her mother's waist and supported her with the other hand under her elbow. Moving slowly, the two women went back to the master bedroom Molly and Arthur occupied in Headquarters. Carefully Ginny helped her mother to sit down in a chair and then she raced downstairs to the kitchen where a meeting was in full swing.

----

Bursting through the door, Ginny didn't care what she interrupted. She was only intent on finding her father and at least Poppy who would be the most help. Scanning the room frantically though, she could find neither.

Alastor got up from his position near Albus at the head of the table but Remus was faster.

"Ginny, what is wrong?"

"Mommy went into labour," she panted.

Suddenly she realized something. Something that made her blood ran cold. Only men were assembled in the kitchen. And the only other occupants in the house were Sirius, her brothers and Harry. Even Hermione was at home with her parents. Panic began to constrict her windpipe.

"Oh God, what am I gonna do?" she whimpered in despair.

"Go to your mother and help her. Severus, get Poppy from Hogwarts and make sure she is prepared for everything. I hope you restocked her potions. Remus, find Arthur and get him here. Alastor, you better get Minerva. Molly might need her friend. I will wake your brothers and Sirius. Unfortunately I'm no help with delivering babies," Albus spoke calmly, exuding confidence.

Ginny felt herself being washed over with calmness and only nodded. Then she turned and drudged back upstairs to her mother's room.

"She couldn't have chosen a worse moment?" muttered Alastor. "With Arthur on guard detail, observing our renegade death-eaters."

----

Molly was still sitting in the chair near the window, leaning comfortably back. Ginny stood there and suddenly the dread and fear came back with a vengeance. She had no idea what to do next.

"Ginny, please help me put on an old nightgown, strip the bed and spread an old quilt over the mattress," Molly said softly.

Her attention was focused inward, as though listening to something far off, which only she could hear. Suddenly she drew in her breath sharply, and put both hands on her distended abdomen. Ginny stared, seeing her belly draw up suddenly tight and round. Molly bit her lip and breathed heavily for a moment, then relaxed. Her belly had resumed its normal shape, a slightly pendant teardrop, rounded at both ends.

Ginny put a hand hesitantly on her shoulder, and her mother covered it with her own, smiling up at her. She hoped to God that Professor Snape would soon come back with Madam Pomfrey. She grew more nervous as the contractions grew stronger. What if her little sister decided to arrive before Madam Pomfrey?

----

Severus arrived in the fireplace in the Hospital Wing with a cloud of dust. Sprinting out of it, he frantically searched the room for the matron but couldn't find her anywhere.

"Poppy!! Please be there!! Poppy!!Where are you?" he shouted out, trying to fight down his panic.

No one answered him and he began to panic even more. Frantically he exited the office into the Hospital Wing and searched the room with his eyes. Still not finding anyone, he drew his wand and cast a quick patronus.

"Go find Minerva and Poppy!! Move!!" he instructed and then raced back into the office.

He decided that he might as well start packing all the necessary equipment for childbirth, not that he had any experience in this particular field. He was throwing bottles of blood-restoring potion and disinfectant and fever-reducing potions into a bag and then remembered where Poppy kept her muggle operation tools. Just as he packed the little box of scalpels as well, Minerva burst through the door.

"Severus! I'm here but Poppy is at home. Her mother's birthday is today and you know that she is a muggle. Her fire place is not connected to the floo network," she panted, staggering to a halt in front of the potions master.

"I'll get her! I put up protective spells around Mrs. Martin's house," Severus immediately suggested. "Can you at least stabilize Molly until we get to Headquarters?"

Minerva only nodded and grabbed the bag Severus held out for her. Then Severus was out the door again. Minerva meanwhile turned to the fire place.

----

At first, Molly carried on light conversation with her daughter, only pausing to bend forward slightly, holding her stomach, as the contractions tightened their grip. But she quickly lost the urge to talk, and lay back, resting quietly in between the increasingly powerful pains. Finally, after one that almost bent her double in her chair, she rose to her feet, staggering.

"Help me walk a bit, Ginny," she said.

Unsure what was the proper procedure, Ginny did as she was told, grasping her mother tightly under the arm to help her stand upright. They made several slow circles of the room, pausing when a contraction struck, going on when it eased. Shortly before Minerva arrived, Molly made her way to the bed and lay down.

Minerva had never looked more reassuring to Ginny. She looked on as Minerva examined her best friend carefully, looking how dilated she already was. Minerva took one of the sheets out of the chest by the foot of the bed, still folded, and pushed it under Molly. Ginny was startled to see the dark stain of blood between Molly's thighs, as she raised herself slightly. Seeing her look, Minerva nodded reassuringly.

"Aye. Bloody show, it's called. It's all right. It's only when the blood is bright red, and a terrible lot all at once, that you can start worrying. There's nothing wrong."

Then Minerva sat down to wait for the water to break. She talked quietly and comfortingly to Molly, rubbing the small of her back, pressing hard during the contractions. As the pains became more frequent, Molly began to clamp her lips together and snort heavily through her nose. Often, there was a deep, faint groan as the full force of the pain came on. Molly's hair was soaked with perspiration by this time, and her face bright red with the strain.

Minerva began to worry that Poppy might not make it in time to help Molly deliver this baby. The thought made her break out in a cold sweat. She was no healer. She might be able to protect her from childbed fever with the potions Severus had packed, but there was no defence against a sudden haemorrhage. The best she could do under such circumstances would be to try to save the child via Caesarean section. She resolutely kept her eyes off the chest in which the sterile blade lay ready, just in case.

----

Remus was panting by the time he made it up the hill that led to the small cottage Arthur was watching for Death Eaters in. He pushed the branches, bending down from thick trees, back and didn't flinch when they cut into him. He trudged through the brown earth, and the crunching leaves before he came outside the small, worn-down cottage. Sighing to himself, he cast a quick disillusion charm on himself so he became almost invisible.

"Arthur? Arthur, it's me Remus! Arthur, come on where are you? I swear it's me, I'll prove it … Molly needs you, she ..."

"WHAT'S WRONG!?" Arthur yelled, running into Remus as he rounded a corner of the house. "Why are you here? Is she ok?"

Arthur had his wand pointed at Remus, but hadn't realized until Remus ended his spell and stretched out his hand and slowly brought Arthur's down so his wand was facing the floor.

"There's no need to hex me, Arthur," Remus said simply, grabbing Arthur's shoulder tight. "But you might need to sit down …"

Arthur's face paled.

"What happened to her?"

"She's in labour. You have to come back to Headquarters, quick."

The world then seemed to stop for Arthur, and he gulped before replying softly: "How long has she been?"

"Ginny came and got us all about twenty minutes ago."

"So there's still time…"

Remus furrowed his eyebrows.

"Look Arthur, I know you're the expert on child delivery and all but time? There's no time! She could have the kid at any minute, we have to get back to Headquarters … She needs you!"

Arthur shook his head and grabbed his cloak, running through the woods, away from the house.

"No, send a patronus to Alastor … Tell him to come take up my guard."

Remus did as he was told then ran after Arthur. The red head turned to him before apparating and added helplessly: "I need a drink."

Remus shook his head before running to him and grabbing hold of his cloak just in time so they apparated together.

----

Arthur gave the bartender his order shortly after Remus gave his and he turned to stare at his friend. Remus had been staring at Arthur for awhile, wondering what he was feeling but this was the first time Arthur had met his gaze. In one second though, all of Arthur's emotions slapped Remus across the face and he found himself foolish for wondering what was going through Arthur's mind, when there was only one thought Remus knew he must have swimming around in there … as if on cue, Arthur chose to speak up at that moment and with his eyes boring into Remus' helplessly he choked out: "Remus, I can't lose her … I can't lose her now, after her being so close before."

----

Soon Molly was unaware of much that happened around her, as the contractions came faster and harder, and thoughts pretty much left her as she was consumed by the pains. Her brain activity seemed to have eliminated unnecessary details, focusing instead on pure sensation, the feel of a warmed blanket thrown over her naked body, the touch of hands as thick towels were placed under her bottom, and then the comfort of a soft pillow placed under her head. She heard voices, and assumed Poppy had come, because the voice sounded authoritative, and Ginny's face calmed down even though her hand still clutched hers.

Then Molly felt soft, slightly wet hand touch her. Poppy's fingers went up inside of her and she moaned louder. Another contraction came on her, and those fingers were probing her insides, and she desperately wanted to murder the body they were attached to. Then the hands were on her belly, holding it between them, and then talking.

First she didn't register it all, but heard some concern in their voices and wondered what that was about, but she didn't ask. She was too wrapped up in her pain. Then the stern voice was speaking to her face, and she came to enough to listen.

"Molly, it's me, Poppy. I think you are at a point where you could try to push. Do you think you could do that? The next time you feel a contraction, I want you to start pushing, okay?"

Molly nodded. She was rolled onto her back, and Minerva was placed behind her on the bed, holding her up in a half sitting position.

"Don't worry—I'm right here," she said soothingly into Molly's ear. She could hear the fright in her friend's voice, though, and tensed just as the next contraction hit her. "Now push, Molly! Get that baby out! Push!" she said, coaching the more experienced woman.

Poppy brought Molly's knees up and placed her hands on them and said, "Now hold onto your knees and give it a good push!"

Molly did what she was told, and heard her say, "Good. That's the way. Keep that up and we'll have your daughter here soon."

Molly lay back on Minerva, exhausted, and thought it had better be soon. She couldn't take the pain much longer. The next one came, and Minerva held her up from behind as Molly pushed with all of her might. Then she lay back against Minerva, and they repeated this process for what seemed hours. Molly was beginning to lose consciousness between the contractions, she was so tired. Something soothing was pressed to her forehead, cool and wet. Looking up, Molly saw her daughter standing over her with a wet towel in her hands, dabbing at her forehead.

"You are doing wonderful, Mommy. It'll soon be over," her scared little girl tried to reassure her.

Molly clamped her lips through the next contraction, beckoning Ginny closer to her side as it eased.

"If the girl lives ..." she said, gasping for air, "... her name is Virginia. Tell your ... father ... name her Virginia."

"Yes, of course, mommy," Ginny soothed, stroking her mother's hair and simultaneously fighting back the panic and tears, threatening to overwhelm her. "But you'll be able to tell him yourself. It won't be long, now."

Molly only nodded and closed her eyes again. She woke a few minutes later to talking.

"She's not making progress. The baby should be moving, and it's not coming, even though she's pushing pretty well, and her vagina is open enough. I'm getting concerned she'll run out of steam before long."

"What can we do?" Molly heard Minerva's fearful voice ask right behind her ear.

"Has her water broken yet?" Poppy asked.

Molly felt Minerva shaking her head.

"We'll have to try something. Hold on, dearie," Molly heard Poppy say, and she knew something bad was going to happen.

Sure enough, she saw her with what looked like a huge crochet hook, and she put it right up inside of her friend, flinching in sympathy.

"AAAHHHH!" Molly screamed as a gush of warm water came out of her, accompanied by a very strong contraction, but she was too tired to push, though, and just waited it out.

----

Arthur was drinking at an alarming speed and Remus was becoming increasingly worried for his friend's safety. He himself had glasses pushed into his hands by the soon-to-be father. Before long they wouldn't be able apparate back to Headquarters. Then Remus made his decision and staggered to his feet and heaved Arthur to his feet as well.

"Let's get you out of here," he suggested.

And then they turned to the door and saw him. Arthur went into a mindless rage as he saw the rapist of his wife.

"What are you doing here, you jackass?" he roared, fighting off Remus' restraining hand. "You bastard dare to show yourself to me!"

Heads turned everywhere and Remus became acutely aware of the explosive situation they were in. He needed to get Arthur out of this bar and to Headquarters, or more importantly to Molly. Saving Lucius' life was far from his mind but ensuring that Arthur would get to his wife was far more important. He grabbed onto Arthur's arm and tried to yank him towards the door but Lucius stepped into their way.

"Well, well, well, if it ain't the Weasel?" he sneered, making Remus wonder how a wizard without a wand or wandless magic could still sound so condescending. "How is that whore you call your wife?"

Arthur lunged at him and pinned him to the wall, cutting off his windpipe.

"You will never again call her that or insult her in any other way!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.

Meanwhile Remus noticed that the bartender was using the thing muggles used to talk to people who were far away. 'he is probably calling these police guys or whatever they are called,' he thought. 'Better get Arthur out of here as long as I can.'

With difficulty he pried Arthur's hands away from Lucius' throat and dragged him a few steps away. Arthur, of course, was not going quietly. He was fighting Remus' hold on him constantly, trying to get back to Lucius and kill him with his bare hands. Remus didn't think long and just apparated out of a room full of muggles back to Headquarters.

----

Poppy became even more worried as the pains went on, with no appreciable progress. Molly was tiring badly. As each pain eased, her body went slack, and she even dozed off, to seek escape in small intervals. Then as the remorseless fist of another contraction grasped her once again, she would wake fighting and groaning with the effort, writhing against Minerva.

"Could the child be ... backwards?" Minerva asked, in a low voice, shy about suggesting such a thing to an experienced healer. Poppy seemed not at all offended by the suggestion, though. The lines between her brows merely deepened as she looked at the straining woman.

When the next pain eased, Poppy flung back the sheet and nightgown, and went rapidly to work, pressing here and there on the huge mound with quick, skilled fingers. It took several tries, as the probing seemed to incite the pains, and examination was impossible during the relentlessly powerful contractions.

At last she drew back, thinking, tapping one foot abstractedly as she watched Molly writhe through two more of the spine-wrenching pains.

"Lean her back a bit," Poppy instructed Minerva, not at all disconcerted by Molly's cries.

At the next relaxation, Poppy plunged into action. Grasping the child through the momentarily flaccid walls of the womb, she heaved, trying to turn it. Molly screamed and jerked in Minerva's arms as another contraction started.

Poppy tried again, and again, and again. Unable to keep from pushing, Molly was wearing herself far past the point of exhaustion, her body struggling past the bounds of ordinary strength as it strove to force the child into the world.

Then it worked. There was a sudden strange fluid shifting, and the amorphous bulk of the child turned under Poppy's hands. All at once, the shape of Molly's belly was altered, and there was an immediate sense of getting down to business.

"Now push."

Molly did, and Poppy dropped to her knees beside the bed. Apparently she saw some sign of progress, for she rose and hastily snatched a bottle from the table where Minerva had put the potions. She poured a small amount of the oil on her fingertips, and began to rub it gently between Molly's legs.

Molly made a deep and vicious sound of protest at being touched as the next pain came on, and Poppy took her hand away. Molly sagged into inertness and Poppy resumed her gentle massage, crooning to her patient, telling her everything was well, just to rest, and now ... push!

During the next contraction, Poppy put her hand on top of Molly's belly and pushed down strongly. Molly shrieked, but Poppy kept pushing until the contraction eased.

"Push with me on the next one," she instructed Minerva. "She's almost here."

Minerva put her hands above Poppy's on Molly's belly, and at her signal, all three of them pushed together. There was a deep, victorious grunt from Molly, and a slimy blob swelled suddenly between her thighs. She straightened her legs against the mattress and pushed once more, and Virginia Claire Hope Weasley shot into the world.

A little while later, Ginny straightened from wiping her mother's smiling face with a damp towel and glanced out the window. It was nearly sunset, so Molly had been in labour for almost 24 hours.

"I'm all right," Molly muttered. "Quite all right."

The broad grin of delight with which she had greeted the delivery of her daughter had turned into the small, permanent smile of deep contentment. She reached up with an unsteady hand and touched her older daughter's cheek.

"Go tell your father," she said. "He'll be worried."

----

To Ginny's cynical eyes, it didn't look it. The scene in the Headquarter's kitchen, where Arthur, Remus, Sirius and Severus had taken refuge, strongly resembled a premature celebratory debauch. An empty decanter stood on the sideboard, accompanied by several bottles, and a strong alcoholic fume hung over the room like a cloud.

The proud father appeared to have passed out, head resting on Remus' shoulder. Remus himself was still conscious, but bleary-eyed, leaning back against the panelling and blinking like an owl. Sirius was laying under the table, clutching an empty bottle to his chest. In fact the only sober one was Professor Snape.

Outraged, Ginny stamped over to the desk and gripped her father by the shoulder, shaking him roughly and ignoring Remus, who pushed himself upright, saying, "Ginny, wait ..."

Arthur was not quite unconscious. His head came up reluctantly, and he looked at his daughter with a set, rigid face, eyes bleak and pleading holes. Ginny realized suddenly that he thought she had come to tell him that his wife was dead. She relaxed her grip and patted him gently instead.

"She's all right," she said, softly. "And my little sister is fine, too."

Arthur laid his head down on his arms again, and Ginny left him, his thin shoulders shaking as Remus patted his back.


	5. Male Egos and Girl Talks

FINALLY!!!! A new chapter. I'm so sorry that it took me so long but I was moving and then decided not to work. Anyway on with the story:

**Male Egos**** and Girl Talks**

Arthur sobbed unashamedly into Remus' shoulder while the younger man patted his back consolingly. Sirius had come to by the sound of Ginny's voice and Arthur's sobs now. And Severus had half-raised himself from his chair but now dropped back with relief that Molly was indeed alive and fine.

"Arthur, it's alright," Remus whispered to his friend.

"No, no, it's not ... I ... Remus, how am I supposed to be a good Dad to a child that isn't even mine?" Arthur pressed out the last three words as though they pained him incredibly and Remus took in a deep breath, kneeling before Arthur.

"Arthur, look at me, you are an amazing father and husband ... the love you have for Molly will overcome how you feel about the baby ... and it'll be good enough and you'll love it enough to call it your own eventually. You are an absolute superb provider for those kids and you will be an excellent step-in father in place of that little girl's repulsive one."

Arthur shook his head sadly and stared bleary-eyed down onto Remus. Resignation and deep emotional pain were shining in his eyes. He rather looked like a drowned puppy, sitting there before the men.

"I can't do this ..." he confessed heartbroken.

Sirius got staggeringly up from the floor and stumbled the two steps towards the new father. Grabbing him hard up the shoulders, he forced Arthur to look up into his eyes, slightly unfocused due to their consumed alcohol.

"Hey, mate, you are just drunk ... like the rest of us," Sirius slurred out. "The world won't look all that dreary after a shower."

Then Sirius collapsed back onto the floor and clutched his beer bottle again. Again Arthur only shook his head in misery.

"Nothing can get better ... only worse from now on," he muttered.

Severus had had enough. With an angry growl emitting from the depth of his throat he lurched to his feet and in two steps was in front of Arthur. Grabbing him by the lapels, he hurled Arthur up to his feet and snarled at him.

"Stop wallowing in self-pity, man. Believe it or not this is NOT about you but about Molly and her little baby girl. If she can't trust and depend on her OWN HUSBAND then on whom can she depend?"

Remus placed his hands on Severus' arms and slowly forced him to free Arthur.

"I wholeheartedly agree with Severus," he said sincerely.

Arthur stared blankly into Remus' eyes. For the first time, the entirety of his selfishness made him feel horrible inside, and he realized how childish he'd been acting. How could he not love a small child? A baby his wife had made, even if with someone else? It hadn't been her fault, and she still loved him fully ... So who was he to take away a chance of being as happy as he and his wife were for that little girl? She deserved a life ... and not only the life her mother could prepare her for, but also the life a father could prepare her for.

She needed both parents, like every kid ... the fact different circumstances and situations got in the way made it no different and no less clear. Arthur had to be there for this little girl. He had to be there for Virginia and as he looked up at his friend with questioning eyes, Remus began painfully assuring him so.

"Arthur," he muttered, half hopeful, and half frustrated. He grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him closer to him. Dizzily, Arthur looked around and then focused his eyes on Remus. The younger man's too-old-for-his-age and haunted eyes bore into his and he felt even worse. Look at the person who was assuring him ... childless, selfless, and in his own eyes: worthless ... Though Arthur thought very different of him and respected him for everything he'd done so far for him. His advice had always turned out correct, and his comfort was always welcome even under these circumstances. His company was more or less so enjoyable and relaxing, and his oh-so-rare smile meant the world to whoever had done well enough to receive it...So Arthur listened.

"You have been my friend for years now...A decade at least....And NEVER have I had to knock parental sense into you! You are MEANT to be here for this little girl, you HAVE to be here for this little girl, and you ARE GOOD ENOUGH and WILL be able to help this little girl physically grow into a toddler, teen, and woman, and emotionally to grow into your heart and be just as your own. Blood makes no difference ... Your wife is the one who knocked that sense into me; being there for me and caring for me." Now, Remus let go of Arthur's shirt and grasped his shoulder. His eyes still bore into his friend's with love and concern. "A wife that is beautiful, smart, sweet, and who needs you right now. She was in pain, she is in pain, and if you act so distant from her and her child she will continue to be. I suggest you go see her and your daughter, and get your act together..." Now, he grinned. "After all, you only have three flights of stairs to do it!"

Arthur smiled and nodded. Then he straightened up and brushed down his fly-away wisps of hair. The others were right: he had to be there for Molly and the baby. It would not do to freak out now and screw up his marriage after working so hard to convince Molly that he was indeed trustworthy and still in love with him.

----

Lucius Malfoy was hiding near the Burrow, looking at the house intently, and wishing lights would go on throughout the house. He had to catch a glimpse of Molly. Finally he had figured out the feeling he had had since being forced out of the Wizarding Community. He had had a nagging feeling since their last night together.

_Then his hands travelled to her throat. Despite everything that had happened to her it still hung there. Her pregnancy charm. Arthur had given it to her and was very careful about renewing it every year. Lucius tore it away from her neck, leaving the imprint of the chain around her throat, laughing viciously._

_"I'll make you mine. No escape for you. Narcissa is no good. Never was. But you can still have children and I'll make damn sure that the noble family of Malfoy survives. Draco is a good boy but something could happen to him. I need reassurance."_

_He began to meddle with the blanket and slid his hand along her naked skin beneath the hindering fabric until he felt her breasts. He laughed thrilled and tore open the blanket completely until she was naked. Then he threw her to the ground._

Smiling cruelly at the memory, he finally knew what it was. She was indeed pregnant with HIS child. He had succeeded to ensure the next generation of Malfoys. Lucius was sure he had fathered a son with Molly.

----

Draco was nervous. His mother was taking him to the Order of the Phoenix's Headquarters. Earlier today she had gotten a message from Professor Snape to get to Headquarters because of Mrs. Weasley. Now they stood in front of an old rickety house in a muggle neighbourhood. Draco really couldn't believe that the Order who brought down the Dark Lord was residing in this dark and dusty place.

"You're sure we're at the right place?" he asked his mother disbelieving.

Narcissa chuckled softly at her son's face. She remembered the first time when she had seen Headquarters. It had looked even more run-down and dirty than it did now.

"Of course I am. Just trust me, dear," she reassured her son with an indulgent smile on her lips.

Slowly and casually Narcissa began walking across the street towards the house. Draco fell back a little, still unsure of his surroundings and the muggle clothes he was wearing. From his new perspective he observed his mother. She had become more confident than before and strode purposefully towards the entrance of Grimmauld Place Number 12. The knee-length skirt of her elegant ensemble showed off her slim legs and trim figure. Her tailored jacket only emphasised her waist instead of her robes which hid her figure completely. Draco had to admit that he had a very attractive mother. Shaking his head in disgust and shock, he wondered where those new thoughts came from. Since when did he realise that his mother was NOT a sexless human being but a woman of merely 39 years, and an attractive one at that. What was wrong with him all of a sudden? Was it her new clothes or all the attention his mother received from his Head of House? Before he could pursue those thoughts though, Draco was interrupted by his mother opening the door to Headquarters and ordering him to be quiet.

"Why?" he asked.

"Draco!" his mother said warningly. "Just trust me."

And trust her he did. Creeping as silently as possible after his mum, Draco suddenly heard male voices coming from a door at the far end of the corridor. They didn't seem to give a damn who heard them and Narcissa seemed to relax upon hearing them.

"I would recognize Sirius' voice everywhere," she chuckled softly and widened her stride.

Before they reached the door though, they heard an angry voice and then the door burst open and Arthur Weasley exited. He looked rather the worst for wear and Narcissa stepped back a little.

"Oh, hello Narcissa. What're you doin' here?" he slurred out.

"Arthur? What happened to you? Look at you," she exclaimed and took another step back.

'So the confident behaviour was just fake,' Draco thought wryly.

Arthur looked down on his wrinkled trousers and un-tucked shirt. He couldn't see his face but knew that stubble was showing and dark circles were around his eyes. Tiredly he dragged a hand across his face and groaned.

"Molly went into labour ..."

That was the last thing Draco heard before storming up the stairs in search of Mrs. Weasley.

"DRACO!"

The voice of his mother reached him but he didn't stop. Bursting through every door, he was looking almost frantically for his newborn sister. He reached the third floor and burst through another door which looked exactly identical to all the other doors and finally came to a halt.

There on the bed in the middle of the room lay Molly Weasley. Her fiery red hair was plastered to her face by sweat and exhaustion still lined her face but she had the most beautiful smile on her lips as she looked down on her little girl. Poppy was bending over her and stroking a strand of her hair out of her face but Molly didn't even notice. She had only eyes and ears for her baby. Briefly Draco wondered if his mother had looked at him like that too when he had been born.

Then soft arms wrapped around him and he was slowly drawn from the room.

"Draco, you can't burst into a lady's room like that," Narcissa admonished quietly. She knew he wanted to see his sister and it ached her that she hadn't ... Shaking her head vigorously, she banished these thoughts. She had never enjoyed Lucius' ... attention and the thought of another pregnancy with his child made her shiver. After Draco had been born he had seldom sought her company and she had thanked God for it. She sighed. "Molly is very exhaustion and you have to be very gentle and quite. Don't scare the baby and please be well-mannered to Molly. I'm sure it isn't easy for her that Lucius ... well, that Lucius fathered her child."

Draco nodded. He understood his mother and he had lost all respect and sympathy for his father. For the first time he really saw him as the jerk he was. But he had sworn the day he had found out about Molly's pregnancy that he would protect his mother, Molly and the new baby from now on. His father would never hurt them ever again.

----

Ginny Weasley stood by the window in the library. She didn't see the children playing under the trees opposite the house or the two elderly ladies with their shopping bags talking in front of the house next door. Her eyes were focused inwards and she was hugging herself tightly.

Minerva stood by the door and watched her young student. Ginny had been very brave in the delivery room, holding her mother and helping her through the pains. Minerva knew that seeing a woman give birth is traumatising for young girls at the best of times but Molly had suffered a lot with little Ginger. Cautiously she approached the young girl and put her hand on her shoulder.

"Ms. Weasley, are you alright? Or do you need to talk?" she asked quietly, causing Ginny to jump nevertheless.

Whirling around, Ginny replied without thinking. "I'm NEVER going to have children!" she blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

Minerva chuckled softly at the younger woman's outburst. She could recall the first time she had used exactly the same words Ginny had just now. Her aunt had been bed-ridden for weeks after delivering young Robert with childbed-fever. And Minerva had sworn never to have children of her own. And look at her now; she had ... had had four children.

"You might mean that now, Ginny, but believe me every woman craves having a child. There is a small part of her heart that is reserved for the love she will feel for her children. Without a child she is only half herself," Minerva replied softly and saw how Ginny's features softened.

"You're sure?" she asked still not really believing her teacher but wanting to.

"Of course I'm sure," Minerva reassured, smiling broadly. "I was terribly afraid of the labour pains ... you know, because I had heard so much about them. It was painful and I swore never to have another child. That lasted until I held my daughter in my arms for the first time. As she was looking up at me with her blue eyes, so much like her fathers, I forgot all the pain and hardship. She became the centre of my attention and I wanted more children. You'll see one day you will find a man to settle down with and have children with."

Ginny only nodded. Perhaps ... just maybe her teacher was right and she would have a child. But probably only one.

----

Minerva lay in bed after her conversation with Ginny and stared blankly up at the ceiling. She stayed as still as possible and tried to ignore the faint annoyance that was creeping into her heart. She had been too tired to be annoyed with anyone and now, she realized that her mind was clearing just enough to be annoyed with someone. She didn't want to talk about what happened this morning. It was something Minerva had always been good at, keeping her feelings to herself. And she hated to think that she might lose this ability, since it had always protected her. It was her armour, something that made sure she didn't appear vulnerable.

She found herself dreading the time when sleep would claim her just because her body was too tired. How she hated her body now! It was not hers to control. At least that was what she felt. Her body rebelled against her and those thoughts caused her to shudder involuntarily. She would fight sleep to the last.

But of course it didn't take long for sleep to claim Minerva. The tiring labour had taken its toll on her as well and she felt her lids droop and finally close. With a soft sigh escaping her lips, she succumbed to the unwelcome embrace of Morpheus.

_Minerva__ lay in bed and was dreaming of her child. Today she had found out that she carried a little girl inside her. Her unborn daughter kicked and heaved in Minerva's swollen belly. Minerva's hands went to the mound, massaging the stretched skin, trying to quiet the turmoil within. But the squirming went on. Minerva suddenly doubled, drawing up her knees as pain washed over her. Her skin was hot to the touch, and her intestines coiled._

_ "Tabby__! Wake up! What's wrong?" The shaking and calling roused her at last to a fuzzy apprehension of her surroundings. She was still in bed, and it was Albus' hand on her shoulder, and the linen sheets over her. But the pains continued, and she moaned loudly, the sound alarming her almost as much as it did Albus._

_He flung back the sheets and rolled her onto her back, trying to push her knees down. Minerva stayed stubbornly rolled into a ball, clutching her stomach, trying to contain the pangs of sharp agony that stabbed through her._

_Albus__ yanked the blanket back over her and rushed out of their suite, barely pausing to snatch his dressing gown from the stool._

_Minerva__ had little attention to spare for anything other than her inner turmoil. Her ears were ringing, and a cold sweat soaked her face._

_ "Mina? Mina!__"_

_She opened her eyes enough to see Poppy, eyes frantic and hair awry, bending over the bed. Albus, in his pyjamas and still more frantic, was behind her. Minerva shut her eyes, groaning, but not before she saw him grab Poppy by the shoulder, hard enough to shake her curls loose from her braid._

_ "Is she losing the child? Is she?"_

_It was extremely likely. Minerva twisted on the bed, grunting, and doubled tighter, as though to protect the burden of pain she contained. The pain increased once more, a vice squeezing Minerva's insides, and she gasped and doubled up once more. As it eased a bit, she opened her eyes and saw the concerned look on Poppy's face and Albus' devastated glance at her. And then she blacked out._

A soft hand shook her shoulder and a male voice called out her name again and again.

"Professor McGonagall? Professor? Please wake up, it's only a dream. You are at Headquarters, safe and sound," Harry called once more before noticing that his Transfiguration Professor was indeed waking up.

He had heard low moans coming from the room the Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore shared. For a wild moment he had thought that his Head of House was in danger and attacked again. Slowly he had crept closer to her room and opened the door only to find Minerva writhing in her bed, troubled clearly by nightmares. At first he hadn't known what to do; go find Professor Dumbledore, get a woman or try to wake up Minerva. Finally he had opted to wake her up first then go find help. Now he was bent over her and shaking her shoulder.

Minerva's lids began to flutter and finally she opened them completely to stare into green eyes like her youngest daughter's had been. Stifling a wail, she sat up abruptly and stared wide-eyed at the intruder. It took her some time to realize it was Harry who had woken her.

"Harry?" she asked hesitantly and received a nod.

"Hello Professor. Let me get Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore," Harry said and turned away from her, clearly unnerved by their closeness and still not really knowing how to act around her.

A hand shot forward and grasped his forearm painfully.

"Don't go!" she pleaded with tears in her eyes.

Panic constricted her throat at the thought of losing him even for a few minutes. He was in many ways like a son for her. Of course she had never mentioned that to him but he held a soft spot in her heart. He reminded her a lot of her own children and now she felt as though he were the only one left to her. She couldn't let him go.

"It's ok, Professor. I won't be long," he reassured her but Minerva still wouldn't let him go.

Suddenly the door opened again and Albus entered. He was more than surprised to see his wife clutching Harry's arm in a death-grip, not to mention that Harry was in their room in the first place.

"Harry? What are you doing here? Minerva, are you alright?" he asked worriedly.

Harry could have fallen to his knees and thanked Albus Dumbledore for his timely appearance. He was really uncomfortable around a panicked woman, especially his teacher, and didn't know what to do.

"Professor McGonagall had a nightmare and I woke her up. I just wanted to go and get you," he explained.

Albus nodded and sent Harry out of the room.

"Would you please get Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape?"

Harry nodded and bustled out of the room after prying his arm free.

Albus then turned to his wife and stroked her cheek softly. With a sigh Minerva leaned into his touch and relaxed a little. Her heart still beat wildly from her nightmare and reliving the loss of their third child. Unwanted tears suddenly came to her eyes and she buried her face in Albus' soft hand. Crying for her child, she wasn't really aware that Albus gently moved towards her, sitting down on the bed next to her and cradling her into his arms.

----

Dr. Thornton arrived about twenty minutes after Albus had calmed down his wife and had floo-called him in his London office and went upstairs to check on Minerva, with Albus and Severus behind him. She was asleep and he didn't want to wake her so he didn't do much but listened to her heart rate and took her temperature. There was nothing else he could do. Finally, he went outside the room and both husband and friend followed him.

Severus was watching the doctor intently as he explained that Minerva's condition, namely having nightmares, was most probably temporary and her mind's way to force her to open up entirely eventually. Severus nodded and said a few 'uh huhs' and turned to watch Albus' reaction. All the older wizard did was nod every time Jonathan explained something. Finally he seemed as though he was going to say something.

"Jonathan, I don't think this is temporary," Albus said, sounding regretful and pained at the same time.

Poppy was standing by the door and listened as well. She really began to like the muggle psychiatrist. Now she focused her gaze away from him back to her friend. She creased her forehead and looked confused. "Why would you say that? It went away the last time, Albus." She then crossed her arms subconsciously under her rather ample bosom and leaned against the doorframe.

At that, Severus perked up. "The last time?"

"What last time?!" Harry asked as well.

Albus ignored his potions master and continued speaking to Jonathan. "That's just it. I don't think she'll get over it so soon. This - I don't think this is the same as the last time. I don't think so at all. This might be a different thing. Different nightmares and God knows what her nightmares were about last time."

"Hey?! Hey! Did anyone hear me? What last time?" Severus interrupted and both men turned to him. Albus regretted bringing up the topic but he had forgotten that Severus and Harry had been there too, listening to their conversation.

"It's something - It's something you don't need to know," Albus said, staring at Poppy to shut up. It wasn't as though he could stop their questioning with scolding them like small children. "Don't ask."

Harry frowned. "I want to know," he demanded, and Albus was surprised at Harry's likeness with his headstrong mother he seemed to portray at this moment. Albus knew that he shouldn't be surprised. Harry got his mother's wit and his mother's strength. He even had Lily's stubbornness despite having James' looks. Albus shouldn't have been surprised at all at Harry's insistence.

"I would like to know that too," Dr. Thornton said, rising his eyebrow. "I need to know everything when I want to attempt to help Minerva."

"Jonathan …" Albus warned. Then he met Poppy's gaze and added: "Poppy! You are not supposed to reveal anything. Doctor-patient confidentiality, remember?"

Poppy shifted uncomfortably, shifting her gaze. "I'm sorry, Severus, Harry."

"Hey!" Harry pointed at the door. "That woman in there is as close as anybody comes to being my mother and I want to know what's going on!" he said, his sentence coming out as rapid as possible. "She wouldn't be in there like that if I had killed Voldemort sooner, before he could kidnap her, so please just cut the crap and tell me!"

Albus gazed at him, shaking his head, "Harry. It's not your fault."

His student blinked and took a deep breath, regretting snapping like that. "Sorry," he mumbled, crossing his arms. "I just - just tell me, okay? Please?"

"Harry, it wasn't your fault," Albus said, worried that this young, vulnerable and sensible boy might be putting the blame on himself. It wasn't his fault. It was his, Albus', fault.

"Drop it," Harry said abruptly. "Forget what I said. Just tell me what is going on. What has Professor McGonagall been going through? Please."

Poppy hesitated for a while, glancing at Albus but then decided to tell him. Minerva needed help. She had seen how devastated she had been after her rescue. She had been broken. She didn't eat, she didn't talk, and she didn't even leave her bed that often. The very same bed she was sleeping on right now. And now she was broken again. If Harry or Jonathan or anybody somehow – even though she didn't know how exactly - could make things better, she was going to make sure they could. Minerva was a dear friend, but more important, she was a patient and Poppy did what was best for her patients, even if it was not the right way. "Minerva, a long time ago that is…" she tried to find the right words, "She suffered from nightmares. And those nightmares were very, very severe. Sometimes, when they were really bad, she wouldn't sleep. I prescribed a dose of Dreamless Draught to help her sleep."

Severus winced and took the information in. Minerva McGonagall having nightmares and taking potions. This didn't sound like his esteemed colleague at all. It didn't sound like the strong willed woman who had taught him. Closing his eyes for a second, he took a deep breath. It was too much. "Was it - Was it a long time ago?"

Poppy clasped her hands together. "Yes. It was a very long time ago. It happened for a few months right after she got married to Albus. I don't know if she had them earlier as I wasn't her healer until after she married." Poppy's eyes darted to Albus and back to Severus and Harry. "But after those months, the nightmares sort of went away and then she conceived her first child," Poppy beamed. "I think Minerva managed to fight whatever it was that was troubling her - she never told me or Albus what those nightmares were exactly."

Albus nodded, knowing that since Poppy had already told them, it wouldn't make any difference no matter what he said now anyway. "We were very happy then … I mean, after that dark period. And then our little girl, Kathlyn. Minerva was so happy when she got pregnant with her and those nightmares stopped. They just stopped coming …" Albus said, remembering the times when his beloved wife would be smiling all day just because the baby had kicked her. A small smile appeared on his lips.

Severus felt a twinge of guilt and sadness, there was still so much he didn't know about his colleagues and he had to admit that he never really tried to get to know them really, but quickly pushed it away, turning his attention back to Poppy. She hugged herself closer.

"When she lost her third child the nightmares started again. She became lost in her own little, dark world and nobody was able to draw her out of her depression. We sat her older children into her lap but she wouldn't react. She didn't talk or cry ... during the day. At night she would start screaming in her sleep ... It was horrible."

Poppy had to stop there. Her voice caught in her throat and she dug her nails into the palm of her hands to keep the tears at bay.

Jonathan looked at the school's matron with great interest in his eyes. Some things began to make sense. Of course he had no idea about the wars in the magical Community and how they affected his patient but knowing that Minerva had lost a child explained partly where some of her nightmares came from. He had no doubt that her nightmares were not only resulting from her traumatic experiences in the hands of those death-eaters.

----

"Minerva?" Albus' voice was soft. "Are you awake?" Slowly he entered their bedroom in case his wife was still asleep.

Minerva nodded gently, afraid. She sighed softly. "What time is it?"

"It's noon. A bit after lunch time. Are you hungry?"

"No. I don't feel like eating." Minerva noticed that Albus looked apprehensive. She knew that what had happened affected him as well. "Was there something you wanted?" she asked gently, not wanting him to feel as though she didn't want him there. She did, she just didn't want to risk talking to him now. He would most probably be listening intently to what she said, and only God knew when she might slip and say something else. _Something else. _

"Tabby, are you feeling well?" Albus asked when he saw that there was a troubled expression on her face.

Snapping out of her thoughts, she nodded. "Yes, well… Yes," she confirmed.

"I asked Jonathan to come here after you fell asleep. He checked on you. I hope that you are not upset …" Albus said, watching her reaction.

"Jonathan? Dr. Thornton? For what?" Minerva glared at him. "I was fine. I didn't need a doctor," she snapped, her annoyance finally seeping through. Albus looked at her wistfully, as though he had known that it was what she was going to say.

"You were upset, honey. I was worried and thought he might be able to help," he explained, his eyes bearing the pain he felt seeing her in pain.

"I had a nightmare!" she exclaimed, trying to brush off her earlier behaviour. "People get upset after they had nightmares. That's why it's called a nightmare! It's supposed to be unpleasant and upsetting."

"You had many nightmares, Tabby. And they stopped." Albus reached out and took her hands into his. "Mina, are those nightmares returning?"

Minerva stared at their entwined hands. "Albus, please don't bring _that_ up." Her tone was cold and firm. It was then that he knew she was avoiding the topic. He knew that was how she would react. Albus felt a stab of pain in his heart, feeling as if he was causing the pain to return to her again. She was already hurt enough now.

"If they are, please tell me. I need to know what is causing you so much pain. I want to make it go away. I want to help you and be there for you. But I can't as long as you won't let me, Tabby." Albus stroked the top of her hand with his thumb. Her hand seemed so small in his and he realized that she seemed small as well.

"You talked to Poppy about the old nightmares? With Dr. Thornton there?" Minerva became pale.

"We care about you. We love you. You have never told me what those dreams are about," Albus said, trying to get her to open up. He needed to know what they were before he could chase them away. "Mina ..."

"Albus, it is not something I want to discuss right now." She was silently begging him to drop the subject.

"Mina ..."

"GET OUT AND LEAVE ME ALONE!! YOU ASKING ME ALL THESE QUESTIONS ISN'T HELPING!!" Minerva snapped, unable to contain her frustration and anger anymore. She knew he only asked because he wanted to help but she couldn't bear the thought of burdening him more than she already did. Better to stay quiet and solve her problem alone, like she always had.

----

Severus had gone back to the kitchen, now empty, after his talk with Albus. He had seen the expression on Dr. Thornton's face and knew what the psychiatrist was thinking ... due to a little Legilimence. If the man was right and Minerva's nightmares had to do, partly, with her children then Severus knew what to do.

"What are you brooding over?" a gentle, shy voice asked, accompanied by a soft hand touching his shoulder.

Turning around slowly, Severus noticed Narcissa looking at him with soft eyes and a small smile tucking at the corners of her mouth. "Or is it about Minerva?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

For a moment Severus forgot to breathe. Her eyes were the kindest he had seen since Lily's and her smile was intoxicating. Briefly he wondered how it would feel to kiss those lips, to wake up to that beautiful smile every morning ... Shaking his head forcefully to rid himself of those pleasant fantasies, he tried to focus on her words. What was he thinking anyway?! She had only just divorced her cruel, abusive husband and he thought already that she should 'get back in the saddle'?! What a pathetic excuse of a man was he?!

"Er ... I – I was thinking about how I could help Minerva," he muttered.

Narcissa smiled again reassuringly at him. "I was thinking about that, too."

"Well, I think the answer is quiet clear," he explained, starting to pace in anticipation to get going. "If we want to help her, we have to find her daughter. She will draw her out of this depression. She will bring new life to her."


	6. Two Different Women, Two Realities

**Two ****Different Women, Two Realities**

Arthur tentatively knocked on his wife's door, ready to withdraw should she not want him near her. He, however, knew that he was indeed able to love the child as his own. For Molly's sake and for the girl's own sake.

"Come in," Molly called from the other side. Her voice seemed strained and tired. Arthur guessed the labour must have been far worse than they had told him. True it had taken much longer than with all the other children but he had deduced it was because of her age.

Arthur slowly opened the door, afraid to face his wife ... well, not exactly afraid, more nervous and shy. He had no idea how she would react to him now. They had just started to close the void between them, to heal the wounds inflicted by Lucius Malfoy both to her and to him. And then Poppy's word came back to him.

----

_ "Look – I'm trying all I can. I love her, and I want to show her that, but – she sheers off. She comes and we talk, and it's great, but then I go to put an arm around her or kiss her, and suddenly she'__s across the room, dusting off her skirts and leaving. Is there something wrong, something I should do?"_

_Poppy gave him one of those disconcerting looks of hers, straightforward and ruthless like a hawk._

_ "You slept with her? After her rapes and tortures, I mean."_

_He felt the blood rising in his cheeks._

_ "I – ah – yes."_

_ "Well, then. So far her latest experience of what one might call the delights of sex consists of being raped – for days and most brutally – then being reclaimed by you – and I don't care how gentle you were about it, it surely had hurt – then giving birth. You think this is calculated to make her fall swooning into your arms in anticipation of your reclaiming your marital rights?"_

_You asked for it, he thought, and you got it. Right between the eyes. His cheeks burned hotter than they ever had with fever._

_ "I never thought of that," he muttered to the wall._

_ "Well, naturally not," she said, sounding torn between exasperation and amusement. "You're a bloody man. That's why I'm telling you."_

_He took a deep breath, and reluctantly turned back to face her. _

_ "And just what are you telling me?"_

_ "That she's afraid," she said. She cocked her head to one side, evaluating him. "Though it's not you she's afraid of, by the way."_

_ "It's not?"_

_ "No," she said bluntly. "She may have convinced herself that she has to know why you came back, but that's not it – a regiment of blind men could see that. It's that she's afraid she won't be able to – enjoy it anymore – mmphm." She raised one brow at him, encompassing a wealth of indelicate suggestion._

_ "I see," he said, taking a deep breath. "And just what do you suggest I do about it?"_

_She picked up her medicines and returned them to their proper places on the shelves._

_ "I don't know," she said, giving him another look. "But I think you should be careful."_

And then there had been Alastor as well. He had clapped him on the back hard and then growled: _"Molly doesna need a coward – she needs to know you'll protect her and the child."_

----

Molly stood by the window and had obviously just fetched the baby from the cradle. She had been in bed; the quilt was thrown back and the hollow of her body was printed on the feather bed. Looking self-conscious, she sidled past him and lay down.

"Remember? I usually feed them in bed at night. She is like her sib... half-siblings; she stays asleep longer if she's next to me."

Arthur made some murmur of assent, and drew up the chair before the fire. It was very warm in the room, and the air was thick with smells of fresh linen, used diapers – and Molly. Her scent was slightly different these days – again and he remembered it well. The tang of wild flowers usually clinging to her hair and skin was tempered with a light, sweet smell that he knew was the milk.

Her head was bent, loose red hair falling over her shoulders in a cascade of sparks and shadows. The front of her nightgown was open to her waist, and the full round curve of one breast showed plainly, only the nipple obscured by the roundness of the baby's head. There was a faint sound of sucking.

As though feeling his eyes on her, she raised her head.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, not to disturb the baby. "I cannot pretend not to be looking."

He couldn't tell if she was blushing. The fire cast a red glow over face and breasts alike. She glanced down, though, as if she was embarrassed.

"Go ahead," she said. "Nothing much worth looking at."

"Molly." He sat forward in his need to touch her. "Molly, I know you're scared. So am I. I don't want you to be afraid of me – but, Molly, I do want you so."

His hand rested on the round of her knee. After a moment, her free hand came down on his, light as a landing bird.

"I want you, too," she whispered. They sat frozen together for what seemed a long time. Arthur had no notion what to do next, only that he must not go too fast, not frighten her. _Be careful._

The tiny sucking sounds had ceased and the bundle had gone limp and heavy in the curve of her arm.

"She's asleep," she whispered. Moving cautiously, she scooted to the edge of the bed and stood up.

Molly might have meant to lay the child in its cradle, but Arthur lifted his hands instinctively. She hesitated for no more than a second, then bent to lay the child in his arms. Her breasts hung full and heavy in the shadow of her open gown, and he smelled the deep musk of her body as she brushed him.

The baby was surprisingly heavy, dense for the size of the bundle. She was amazingly warm, too; warmer even than her mother's body.

Arthur boosted the tiny body cautiously, cuddling it against him. The small, curved buttocks fit in the palm of his hand. It – _she _– wasn't quite bald, after all. There was a soft red-blond fuzz all over the head. Tiny ears. Almost transparent; the one he could see was red and crumpled from being pressed against her mother's arm.

"You can't tell by looking," Molly's voice jerked him out of his contemplation. "I've tried." She was standing across the room, one drawer of the sideboard open. He thought it might be regret on her face, but the shadows were too deep to tell.

"That wasn't what I was looking for." He lowered the baby carefully to his lap. "It's only – this is the first time I've had a proper look at my daughter." The words sounded peculiar, stiff to his tongue. She relaxed a little, though.

"Oh. Well, she's all there." There was a small note of pride in her voice that caught at his heart, and made him look closer. The little fists were curled up tight; he picked one up and gently stroked it with his thumb. Slowly as an octopus moving, the hand opened, enough for him to insert the tip of his index finger. The fist closed again in reflex, astonishing in the strength of its grip.

Arthur could hear a rhythmic _whish _across the room, and realized that she was brushing her hair. He would have liked to watch her, but was too fascinated to look up.

The body had feet like a frog's, wide at the toes, narrow at the heel. Arthur stroked one with a fingertip, and smiled as the tiny toes sprang wide apart.

_My daughter in heart_, he thought, and wasn't sure what he felt at the thought. It would take time to get used to it.

_But she is Molly's too_, came the next thought. Not just Molly's child, to be loved for her sake – but her own sake. That thought was even more foreign. He tried to push it from his mind, but it kept coming back.

"Shall I take her?" Molly was standing at his elbow. She reached for the baby, but Arthur shook his head and picked up the child again.

"Not just yet." It – she – smelled of milk and something sweetly putrid. Something else, her own indefinable smell, like nothing else Arthur had ever encountered.

"Eau de baby, my mother called it. Our own had that too, remember?" She sat on the bed, a faint smile on her face. "Mum said it's a natural protective device, one of the things babies use to keep their parents from killing them."

"Killing her? But she's a sweet little girl," Arthur protested.

One eyebrow quirked up in derision.

"You will change your mind once we have to get up in the middle of the night again."

Molly chuckled softly at that reminder, but Arthur remained serious.

"Did you say _we_? And, more importantly, do you mean it?" he asked carefully, not daring to believe his ears.

"You said that you loved me, by all you hold holy," she whispered. "What is it that's holy to you, Arthur?"

He stood and reached for her, gently, carefully. Held her against his heart, and remembered all the years they had spent together.

"You," he said, against her hair. "Her. Us. There isn't anything else, is there?"

----

Albus was getting ready for bed and observed Minerva, who was sitting at her vanity. She was brushing out her hair and then applied a light night cream on her face. She looked like she had the day he had known for sure that he loved her. Climbing into bed, he said, "Come on, Minerva, let's go to sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow, especially you with going back to classes."

She looked like she was about to say something, but decided against it. She crawled into bed next to him, kissed him gently on the lips and turned over spooning her back up against his chest. She heard him sigh slightly and then put his arm over her side and settled into sleep. Minerva lay stiffly in her husband's arms, fighting sleep. Soon, though, Morpheus claimed her and she dreamed of her little girl.

_----_

_It__'s been two months now and I still can't believe that my baby is gone. It happened so fast and so suddenly, yet it still hurts me. Everyone at school eyes me sympathetically, but I don't want their sympathy. I want my baby._

_I wonder what it would have been like to have another ._

_If my little girl would have survived I would have dressed her in fancy dresses and put pretty bows in her hair. I would have been playing with her in the grounds of Hogwarts. I would have hugged and kissed her when she scraped her knees. I would have let her play with my make-up and have little tea parties. I would have looked at her in wonder as she entered kindergarten and I would have nurtured her until she was grown. I would have hugged her when the first guy broke her heart and I would have cried tears of sadness and joy when she got married._

_When I see other people with their babies, I feel tears forming and have to turn away. For a whole month afterwards, I hated seeing mother's with their children. The tiny hands and feet and the piercing, bright eyes that gazed lovingly back at their mothers' hurt me more than anything. People would show me their babies and I would just nod, hoping to get away quickly for fear that my heart might explode right there. I felt such jealousy that it scared me. I'm just starting to get over that phase._

_I don't talk about it with others because it hurts too much, but sometimes when I'm all alone, I wonder. I wonder and cry and ask God why he did this thing to me. I never get an answer, it seems, but I hope it was for a reason. Maybe if I'd had her, something more tragic would have happened and crushed me beyond what I could have taken. I don't know why and it seems all I'm left with is my wondering._

----

She awoke from her dream with a start, surprised to find her cheeks were damp with tears. She hadn't thought of that night in so long. She assumed it was all of the talk about Molly's baby. She silently wiped her tears away and tried to relax in Albus' embrace. She had never told him about her wonderings. She wasn't sure he would understand any of that. She couldn't risk upsetting him again. Their relationship was still so fragile. She wasn't prepared to lose everything again. She heard him quietly whisper:

"Is everything alright, my love?"

She made herself smile, even though he couldn't see her face in the darkness, to help her be convincing.

"Of course, dear. I'm sorry if I woke you."

She put her arm over the one he had draped over her side and pulled it even closer to her frame. She could have sworn she heard him sigh as he responded, "It's ok – you didn't wake me. Now go back to sleep."

"Yes, love, that's what I'll do."

But she knew that she would not give in to sleep again the remainder of this night as she was afraid of where her dreams might take her. Albus, too, remained awake. He had been awake since he felt the first tremors of Minerva's nightmare. He knew she was keeping something from him, but he didn't know what; and, he didn't know how to convince her that she could trust him with anything. She had trusted him with her life for as long as he could remember … what could require more trust than that? He kept telling himself that he would confront her soon; but, for now, he would let her have her secrets … just for a little longer, until she had healed fully.


	7. Need for Children

**Need for Children**

Albus kept vigil over his wife. Minerva was, of course, pretending to be asleep. Her pride demanded it of her but Albus knew her better. He listened to her irregular breathing; far too irregular for her to be asleep.

----

_She could see Albus' tall figure, already coming around the corner of the manor. She turned, pretending she hadn't seen him, and walked off toward the arbour. The shrubbery was thick down there ... perhaps she could hide._

_ "Minerva!" Pretending was useless. He had seen her as well, and was coming down the path after her. She walked faster, but she was no match for those long legs. She was puffing before she had covered half the distance to the arbour, and had to slow down. She was in no condition for strenuous exercise._

_ "Wait, Minerva!"_

_She half-turned. He was almost upon her. The soft gray numbness around her quivered, and she felt a sort of frozen panic at the thought that the sight of him might rip it away from her. If it did, she would die, she thought, like a worm dug up from the soil and tossed onto a rock to shrivel, naked and defenceless in the sun._

_ "No!" she said. "I don't want to talk to you. Go away." He hesitated for a moment, and she turned away from him and began to walk rapidly down the path toward the arbour. She heard his steps on the gravel of the path behind her, but kept her back turned, and walked faster, almost running._

_As Minerva paused to duck under the arbour, Albus made a sudden lunge forward and grasped her wrist. She tried to pull away from him, but he held on tight._

_ "Minerva!" he said again. Minerva struggled, but kept her face turned away. If she didn't look at him, she could pretend he wasn't there. She could stay safe._

_Albus let go of her wrist, but grabbed her by both shoulders instead, so that she had to lift her head to keep her balance. His face was sunburned and thin, with harsh lines cut beside his mouth, and his eyes above were dark with pain. "Minerva," he said more softly, now that he could see her looking at him. "Minerva – it was my child, too."_

_ "Yes, it was – and you killed it!" She ripped away from him, flinging herself through the narrow arch. She stopped inside, panting like a terrified cat. She hadn't realized that the arch led into a tiny vine-covered folly. Latticed walls surrounded her on all sides – she was trapped. The light behind her failed as his body blocked the arch._

_ "Don't touch me." She backed away, staring at the ground. 'Go away!' she thought frantically. Please, for God's sake, leave me in peace! She could feel her gray wrappings being inexorably stripped away, and small, bright streaks of pain shot through her like lightning bolts piercing a cloud._

_Albus stopped, a few feet away. Minerva stumbled blindly toward the latticed wall and half-sat, half-fell onto a wooden bench. She closed her eyes and sat shivering. While it was no longer raining, there was a cold, damp wind coming through the lattice to chill her neck._

_He didn't come closer. She could feel him, standing there, looking down on her. She could hear the raggedness of his breathing._

_ "Minerva," Albus said once more, with something like despair in his voice, "Minerva, do you not see ... Minerva, you must speak to me! For God's sake, Minerva, I don't know even was it a girl or a boy!"_

_Minerva sat frozen, hands gripping the rough wood of the bench. After a moment, there was a heavy, crunching noise on the ground in front of her. She cracked her eyes open, and saw that Albus had sat down, just as he was, on the wet gravel at her feet. He sat with bowed head, and the rain had left spangles in his damp-darkened hair._

_ "Will you make me beg?" he said._

_ "It was a girl," she said after a moment. Her voice sounded funny; hoarse and husky. "I named her Kendra Gwyneth. After our mothers."_

_The bowed head didn't move. After a moment, he said quietly, "Did you see the child?"_

_Minerva's eyes were open all the way now. She stared at her knees, where blown drops of water from the vines behind her were making wet spots on the silk._

_ "Yes. Healer Smythesson said I ought, so they made me." She could hear in memory the low, matter-of-fact tones of the healer, most senior and respected healer in the field of gynaecology at St. Mungo's Hospital._

_ "Give her the child; it's always better if they see. Then they don't imagine things."_

_So she didn't imagine, she remembered._

_ "She was perfect," she said softly, as though to herself. "So small. I could cup her head in the palm of my hand. Her ears stuck out just a little – I could see the light shine through them. The light had shone through her skin as well, glowing in the roundness of cheek and buttock with the light that pearls have; still and cool, with the strange touch of the water world still on them. Healer Smythesson wrapped her in a length of white satin," she said, looking down at her fists, clenched in her lap. "Her eyes were closed. She hadn't any lashes yet, but her eyes were slanted. I said they were like mine, but they said all babies' eyes are like that. Ten fingers, and ten toes. No nails, but the gleam of tiny joints, kneecaps and finger-bones like opals."_

_Minerva remembered the far-off clatter of the hospital, where life still went on, and the subdued murmur of the healers, closer by, talking. She remembered the look of calm appraisal in Healer Smythesson's eyes as she turned to look Minerva over, seeing her weakness. Perhaps she saw also the telltale brightness of the approaching fever. She had turned again to Poppy and her voice had dropped further – perhaps suggesting that they wait; two funerals might be needed._

_But Minerva had come back from the dead. Only Albus' hold on her body had been strong enough to pull her back from that final barrier, and Poppy had known it. Minerva knew that only Albus himself could pull her back the rest of the way, into the land of the living. That was why she had run from him, done all she could to keep him away, to make sure he would never come near her again. She had no wish to come back, no desire to feel again. She didn't want to know love, only to have it ripped away once more._

_But it was too late. She knew that, even as she fought to hold the gray shroud around her. Fighting only hastened its dissolution. It was like grasping shreds of cloud, that vanished in cold mist between her fingers. She could feel the light coming, blinding and searing._

_Albus had risen, was standing over her. His shadow fell across her knees. Surely that meant the cloud had broken; a shadow doesn't fall without light._

_ "Minerva," he whispered. "Please. Let me give you comfort."_

_ "Comfort?" she said. "And how will you do that? Can you give me back my child?"_

_Albus sank to his knees before her, but Minerva kept her head down, staring into her upturned hands, laid empty on her lap. She felt his movement as he reached to touch her, hesitated, drew back, reached again._

_ "No," he said, his voice scarcely audible. "No, I cannot do that. But ... with the grace of God ... I might give you another?"_

_His hand hovered over hers, close enough that she felt the warmth of his skin. Minerva felt other things as well. The grief that he held tight under rein, the anger and the fear that choked him, and the courage that made him speak in spite of it. Minerva gathered her own courage around her, a flimsy substitute for the thick gray shroud. Then she took his hand and lifted her head, and looked full into the face of the sun._

----

Minerva was having trouble breathing, and thought at first that she was being smothered by Albus' robes, hugging her to him tightly. But the material pressing on her nose was softer than his sturdy cloak and damp, and she twisted her head away and came awake, feeling the linen pillow wet with tears beneath her cheek. Albus' hand was large and warm on her shoulder, gently shaking her.

"Hush, lassie. Hush! You're but dreaming – I'm here."

Minerva turned her face into the warmth of his naked shoulder, feeling the tears slick between cheek and skin. She clung tightly to his solidness, and the small night sounds of Headquarters came slowly to her ears, bringing her back to the life that was hers.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I was dreaming about ... about ..."

Albus patted her back, and reached under the pillow for a handkerchief.

"I know. You were muttering under your breath." He sounded resigned.

Minerva laid her head back on his shoulder. He smelled warm and rumpled, his own sleepy scent blending with the smell of the down-filled quilt and the clean linen sheets.

"I'm sorry," she said again.

He snorted briefly, not quite a laugh.

"Well, I understand. I cannot grudge our daughter your dreams. Or your tears," he mumbled at last. "I mourn her still, too." His finger gently traced the wet track down one cheek, then blotted it with the handkerchief.

"You don't?"

His smile in the dimness was lopsided.

"No. You loved her. I cannot hold it against you that you mourn her. And it gives me some comfort to know ..." He hesitated, and Minerva reached up to smooth the rumpled hair off his face.

"To know what?"

"That should the need come, you might mourn for me that way," he said softly.

Minerva pressed her face fiercely into his chest, so her words were muffled.

"I _won't _mourn you, because I won't have to. I won't lose you, I _won't_!" A thought struck her, and she looked up at him. "You aren't in pain or have a relapse, are you? You don't ... you aren't ..."

"No." His voice was quick and soft, a response fast as the possessive tightening of his arms around his wife. "No," he said again, more softly. "We are bound, you and I, and nothing on this earth shall part me from you." One large hand rose to stroke her ebony hair. "Do you remember the blood vow that I swore you when we wed?"

"Yes, I think so. _Blood of my blood, bone of my bone ..._"

"_I give you my body, that we may be one_," he finished. "Yes, and I have kept that vow, Tabby, and so have you." He turned her slightly, and one hand cupped itself gently over her abdomen. "You have given me the gifts I treasure most. You have defied death for me. I cannot leave you now, no matter what happens. You are mine, always, and I won't let you go."

Minerva put a hand over his, pressing it against her.

"No," she said softly, "nor can I leave you."

"No," he said, half-smiling. "For I have kept the last of the vow as well." He clasped both hands about her, and bowed his head on her shoulder, so she could feel the warm breath of his words upon her ear, whispered to the dark. "_For I give you my spirit, 'til our life shall be done._"

----

Lucius Malfoy had slowly come to the conclusion that The Burrow was empty. Only occasionally one of those Weasley brats would come by, laden down with paint or furniture or packages with unknown content, but leave again after a few hours, empty-handed.

Huffing in frustration, he began to wonder where the little whore could be hiding. He reckoned it could be Hogwarts but he had no means to find out if that was really the case. A thought came to him like lightening.

"It is time to reunite with my family," he muttered grimly, a horrible sneer splitting his face in two.

----

Molly lay in Arthur's arms and was relaxed for the first time in many months ... actually for the first time since she had found out she carried Lucius' child. Stifling a yawn, just barely, she snuggled closer into the warm embrace of her husband. She couldn't believe how much she had missed him in the last months ... not just him physically but their mental closeness as well. Ever since her capture there had been a wall between them, too big and too wide to get past it. It had seemed as if Lucius had succeeded in destroying their marriage.

But right then, right there everything seemed to be back to normal, back to their happy and easy closeness.

Arthur smiled t himself as he felt Molly relax gradually to the point where she lay heavily in his arms with her own arm wrapped loosely around his middle and her head on his chest. He had dreamt of this for the last months, had hoped to break through to her and be able to love her as he had before.

Slowly Molly's eyes drooped until they were small slits. She tried to fight sleep but the arduous labour had taken the fight out of her and she slowly succumbed to the heaviness in her limps.

Suddenly Ginger began to stir and fret, but Molly couldn't bring herself to drag herself out of bed again and tend to her daughter. Half-heartedly she let go of Arthur's waist and made to roll to the side and off the bed but a hand was gently clasped on her shoulder. Beside her Arthur steered and leaned closer to her, whispering, "Go back to sleep, my love. I take care of her."

Molly lay back down and pretended to fall asleep right away. Groaning a little, Arthur rolled over and out of bed. He stepped up to the cradle, crooning softly to the baby girl inside. She kept her eyes open, but stayed completely still as she watched the two of them, Arthur rocking and patting her, before he sat down in the chair by the fire.

"Hush, hush, what's all this fuss about? Don't tell Mummy this, but you are a lucky little princess to have her in your life - she is a wonderful mother, and I'm a little jealous (just kidding) of the attention she'll be giving you… don't ever forget that she's a lovely lady, and loves you very much… as I do…"

The last part of his sentence was barely audible and came out hesitantly.

Molly pretended to be asleep when he returned to bed, but she had been incredibly moved by his speech…. But she wasn't going to tell him that she had heard him…


	8. Reality or Imagination?

**Reality or Imagination?**

Minerva slowly woke up to the sun gently tickling her nose and blinding her closed eyes. Wrinkling her nose, she tried to go back to sleep. It had been too short a night and she felt rotten. When sleep wouldn't come back, she groaned low in her throat, turning over in her bed.

Albus watched Minerva from the chair at her vanity. He had watched over her all night, ready to chase away the nightmares. Now he wished he could grant his wife the much needed sleep but that was regrettably impossible. School would begin today and Minerva had been absent from the Feast last evening due to Molly going into labour. She had to start classes today. The sooner she got back in the saddle, the better.

With a sigh escaping his lips, Albus got up and moved to the bed. Bending over his wife, he momentarily blocked out the sun, making her smile smugly and snuggling back into the covers. She looked adorable. The more heartbreaking that he had to wake her. He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her forehead then moved his lips over her closed eyelids, nose and cheeks. Like a person immersed in water, Minerva stirred drowsily, turning on her back and raising her arms as if to push him off. As his lips covered hers, though, she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him closer, deepening their kiss, showing she was fully awake.

"Darling, as much as I like where this is headed, but you have to get up and dressed ... classes are waiting," Albus mumbled against her lips, not at all willing this kiss to end, though.

A deep sigh escaped now Minerva's lips. Reluctantly she slackened her embrace and lay back again. Albus closed his eyes to the sight she presented. The covers were kicked down so they pooled around her hips with her long legs still clearly outlined through the light blanket. The straps of her negligee had lowered during her restless night. The picture she presented was all too enticing.

----

Arthur woke up to a cramped neck and aching back, still sitting in the chair by the fireplace. Groaning loudly, he tried to move but stifled his efforts immediately when he saw Molly still peacefully asleep on the large bed, little Ginger wrapped securely in her arms close to her bosom. 'God, I would love to change places,' he thought enviously. As quietly as possible for him, Arthur heaved his body off the chair and moved to the door. 'Best get some breakfast and make a tray ready for Molly.'

----

Lucius had made it to Malfoy Manor, with some difficulties, over-night. Now he was lurking outside the great house and waited for the lights to go on. He waited and waited and waited ...

No lights. No sign of either Draco or Narcissa. Nothing. Total silence. The place seemed deserted. But where could his family be at this hour? And then he remembered ... Draco was probably back to school since it had started yesterday. But that didn't explain where Narcissa was. Perhaps she was visiting with her new friends, that ungrateful, traitorous slut!

----

Minerva slowly climbed out of bed, being sure that Albus was under the shower and wouldn't suddenly appear and watch her getting dressed. To be honest she didn't think she would be able to teach today ... or ever again. She was shaking by the mere thought of standing in front of a class full of boys. She had just begun to feel comfortable with Albus, Arthur and Severus and the other man of the Order, but Albus was still the only man with whom she was comfortable being alone in a room.

Wrapped up in her thoughts, Minerva didn't notice the shower being turned off and Albus stepping out of the bathroom. Smiling softly to himself, Albus crept towards her and wrapped an arm loosely around her waist. She was so startled by the unexpected emergence that she jumped, screamed and tried to hit whoever was behind her. Her fist did not even come close to its intended target but her momentum made her lose her footing and fall backwards. Instead of hitting the ground hard like she expected; she was caught by two strong arms and helped back on her feet. Blushing furiously, Minerva turned to the person shyly, her eyes glued to the ground. As soon as she heard Albus speak with his all too familiar voice though, her eyes shot up and she smiled at him.

"I'm so sorry for startling you," he mumbled apologetically.

Without knowing why, she could not stop herself from jumping and throwing her arms around him in a tight embrace and she felt tears of unadultered joy run down her face He seemed to be taken by surprise at first, but then his body relaxed and he returned the hug. Minerva could barely remember the last time she had hugged anyone, or been hugged by anyone for that matter. Albus, though, he was real, warm and even his smell was relaxing; a mix between lemon, ink and that particular musky smell most men carried. She decided she did not want to move away; staying like this until she died seemed like the best idea in the world … unfortunately, he did not share her hopes.

After a minute or so, he backed away; a thoughtful expression on his face. _Albus has too much on his mind,_ she thought as she wiped away her tears He said something she could not understand, and pointed to the wardrobe. Confused, Minerva followed him to the furniture and peered inside when he opened it. Suddenly, she felt like a 5 year old on Christmas and could not help but giggle excitedly as her husband took a beautiful gown out of the wardrobe. She had to stop herself from ripping the dress out of his hands and putting it on immediately; instead she decided to put her hands behind her back and watched impatiently as he brought the dress behind a folding screen.

"I bought you this to make your first day back in school a day to remember," he explained, smiling shyly at his wife.

Next, he returned to the wardrobe and, mumbling under his breath, picked up a pair of brown, light boots, which he also then placed behind the screen. Minerva tried not to laugh at him, who truly did not look the part of a clothing maid, while he tried to tell her to go change and not looking directly at her in case she might be uncomfortable. She played the part of the naïve girl for a bit, truly enjoying toying with her lovely man; but when he turned around and promised not to look while she should "take her current dress off" Minerva exploded in laughter and ran behind the screen. The poor man huffed in indignation and she heard him sit on the bed.

It took Minerva quite some time, and a few grunts from Albus, to finally get the night gown off and the new dress on. After finally understanding how the dress was supposed to be worn, she now had much less trouble but the skirts were still heavy and voluminous. Minerva's mood sunk down quite a bit as soon as she took the nightgown off and noticed the scars. As her eyes began to scan, from her hands up to her shoulder and over her breasts, Minerva's head began to feel dizzy. She felt her stomach lurch and her knees weaken as memories flashed through her mind. It took all of her will power, while staring at anything but her own body, for her to keep going.

When she finally reappeared from behind the screen, Albus was pacing to and fro in the room. She looked at him with a neutral expression, and he gave her a weak smile before his face became serious again.

"Are you ready for work?" he asked concerned.

Minerva suddenly couldn't speak, her throat parched. She only nodded and tried to appear confident.

----

On his way back upstairs with a tray laden down with rolls, tea, jam and honey, Arthur ran into MacRae.

"Hoy, watch out, man!" MacRae lunged forward to help steady the tray and keep Arthur on his feet.

"Thank you," Arthur muttered under his breath. "My fault. Was in thoughts."

"Mhm, is it because of the wee one?"

Arthur's head whipped up and he stared at MacRae. He couldn't believe he was that obvious to a youngster ... his friends yes but MacRae was barely out of school and had no idea about family and children.

"It's ok. I'm adopted. I know what you worry about. My father went through the same but then he heard of this old Gaelic custom."

Arthur's ear pricked up and he raised one eyebrow questioningly.

----

Bill sat at the table, shoulder to shoulder with his mother, frowning at a set of papers as she pointed with her quill. Both of them were liberally covered with ink, being inclined to enthusiasm when discussing architecture and the new room for little Ginger. The baby snored peacefully in her cradle nearby; Molly was rocking it absently with one foot.

"Very domestic," MacRae said under his breath, stopping in the corridor. "Seems a shame to disturb them."

"Do I have a choice?"

"Aye, you do," he replied. "But I guess you've made it already."

Arthur walked purposefully up to the open door and stepped inside. Bill reacted instantly to this unfamiliar darkening of the door; he pushed his mother off the bench and lunged for his wand on the table. He had it levelled at his father's chest before he realized what – or whom – he was looking at, and lowered it with a small exclamation of surprise.

"Oh, it's you," he said. "Sorry."

The baby, rudely wakened by the crash of the overturned bench, was shrieking like a siren. Molly scooped her out of her cradle and clasped her to her breast, looking wild-eyed at the apparition of her husband.

Arthur took a step toward her; instinctively she took a step back. He stood quiet still, looking at the child. She sat down on the chair, fumbling at her bodice, bending protectively over her baby. She pulled a shawl across her shoulder and gave Virginia a breast in its shelter, and she stopped squawking at once.

MacRae saw Arthur's eyes shift from the baby to Bill. Bill stood beside Molly with utter stillness that so frightened him – straight and still as a stick of dynamite, with a lit match laid a hairsbreadth from the fuse.

The flame of Molly's head moved slightly, looking from one to the other, and MacRae saw what she saw; the echo of Arthur's own dangerous stillness in Bill. It was both familiar but shocking; they were truly father and son. MacRae briefly wondered if wee Ginger would resemble or own father or the man who would raise her as his own.

Arthur reached his hand toward Bill, palm up, and the gesture held no hint of supplication.

"I don't imagine you'll like what comes next," he said in his rusty voice, "but you are my oldest son. Cut me. I've come to swear an oath in our shared blood."

MacRae couldn't tell whether Bill hesitated or not; time seemed to have stopped, the air in the room crystallized around them. Then he watched Bill's wand cut the air, a silvery shadow of a knife appear, honed edge draw swift across the thin, tanned wrist, and blood well red and sudden in its path.

To his surprise, Arthur didn't look at Molly, or reach for her hand. Instead, he swiped his thumb across his bleeding wrist, and stepped close to her, eyes on the baby. She pulled back instinctively, but Bill's hand came down on her shoulder.

She stilled at once under its weight, at once a promise of restraint and protection, but she held the child tight, cradled against her breast. Arthur knelt in front of her, and reaching out, pushed the shawl aside and smeared a broad red cross upon the downy curve of the baby's forehead.

"You are blood of my blood," he said softly, "and bone of my bone. I claim thee as my daughter before all men, from this day forever." He looked up at Bill, challenging. After a long moment, Bill gave the slightest nod of acknowledgement, and stepped back, letting his hand fall from Molly's shoulder.

Arthur's gaze shifted to Molly.

"She is my daughter. Are you still my wife and come home with me?"

For a moment all in the room was silent, even the baby as if she sensed this moment was important.

"Yes, I am," she said at last, simple but heartfelt.

----

Minerva took another deep breath, in and out, in and out. Her knees were shaking uncontrollably and cold sweat had broken out all over her body. She couldn't do that! She couldn't go in! Minerva knew that her class was waiting for her inside and that class had started a couple of minutes ago. Still she stood outside, trying to control herself and put on a face of confidence and calm.

Suddenly she heard footsteps sound from the other end of the corridor. Panic constricted her throat. She didn't want to be caught outside her classroom by her husband or one of their friends, for they would surely tell him about that. Rushing to the door and ripping it open and basically flying into the room, she clearly startled her 6th years. Trying for some semblance of order, she commanded, "That will do."

The pupils, though, were all sitting quietly and patiently in their seats, waiting for Minerva to start her classes. None of them was snickering or joking around. Hermione, as usual in the first row, was sitting on the edge of her chair, clearly excited to have her favourite teacher back. Harry and Ron, as usual to either side of Hermione, were also looking eagerly at her. Even the Slytherin half of her class seemed more civilized and ready to be educated than ever before.

"Well, today we will revise last year's exercises, see what can be perfected and then I will outline the plan for this semester," Minerva found more easily back into her routine than she would have guessed. She also sensed her class heaving a collective sigh of relief.

For some time the lessons went as if everything was back to normal but only on the surface. Nothing was normal; invisible lines had been drawn between Minerva and the class, lines which hadn't been there before. She wouldn't go through the room, correcting students' efforts. Now she kept behind her desk as if using it as a wall between her and them.

Half way through the class Minerva began to shiver again. Memories were immersing themselves into the present. All of a sudden she was unable to distinguish between reality and memories. There sat Blaise Zabini but all she saw was his father, raising his wand and hexing her with a particular painful Cruciatus Curse during the festivities.

Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were sitting side by side at the very end of the rows, surprisingly enough far away from Draco Malfoy. Their faces were dour and hostile. _Crabbe and Goyle were dragging Molly in through the door of the cell, throwing her on the ground as though she were only a sack of potatoes. Goyle was lifting his foot and viciously brought it down on her out-stretched hand, making Molly scream in agony. Crabbe, though, was advancing on Minerva, chained to the wall, his wand in hand and a horrible sneer on his face. _

Draco Malfoy sat near the trio; not exactly next to them but close and they seemed to accept him. _Lucius undressed as quickly as possible, he couldn't wait any longer, and he would get what he wanted whether Molly cooperated or not. He trailed his finger up her bare leg, enjoying the softness of her skin. It was smooth despite her over forty years. She was all his if he chose to take her. His hands wandered farther into an area that Lucius had not yet explored. Molly cried and whimpered lightly as he slipped a finger into her, and he was almost disappointed by her sudden submissiveness. She was soaking wet, who was she to say she didn't want him? He pressed his hardened manhood against her thigh, and she cried out in pain - pain that Lucius mistook for pleasure - as he rocked into her, thrusting and moaning._

_"No, no Lucius stop!" Molly begged, sobbing. She was in pain, and worse, she was completely vulnerable and completely at his mercy. But Lucius would have none of her pleading. He silenced her cries with a long kiss, mashing is rough lips against her soft ones. All she could do was lay under his heavy trap, and whimper to herself, pleading with God, who had long before forsaken her._

_Lucius was finally finished with the bitch, grinning to himself. He tossed her away from him like a plaything he no longer used, and she scrambled to collect her cloths. He had gotten what he wanted, and so he no longer needed her. And he was completely oblivious of Molly's slumped and bleeding form, vomiting on the floor through a flood of tears._

Minerva made a dash to the waste bin, just in time, and threw up in it.


	9. Danger Approaching

**Danger Approaching**

Poppy wrung out another cold cloth and exchanged it with the one on Minerva's forehead. It was fever hot and Minerva kept her eyes stubbornly closed. Neither the gentle pleading from Poppy nor Albus' appearance had coaxed her into opening them. Tears of shame had escaped down Minerva's cheeks and she had turned away from Albus' touch, hunching her shoulders defensively, drawing her knees up and curling into a foetus position. Albus had made no further attempt to touch her but the look in his eyes had torn Poppy's heart apart.

"Please, darling, talk to us. What happened?" Poppy made one last helpless attempt to draw Minerva out of her shell. Her tone became more pleading and desperate, "Minerva ... please ..."

No sound escaped Minerva's lips but her lids pressed even closer together. Apparently she refused to deal with the reality in front of her.

Poppy turned around on her chair as she heard a hesitant knock on the door. Frowning, she wondered who that could be.

"Come in," she called out.

Finally something stirred at the gate of Malfoy Manor, something different than the pet peacocks. To Lucius' delight he recognized his own wife, sauntering up the path to the big house. She wore a muggle summer dress with a tight-fitting bodice and a wide skirt which flared out at her movements. No robe, no pointed hat ... the insignia of a real witch, the insignia of their pride as pure-bloods.

Smiling into the sun and closing her eyes, Narcissa twirled around, joyfully enjoying the bright day and her newfound freedom. Today was such a wonderful day; she had gotten mail from her precious son and she had visited Molly and two-day old Ginger. The little girl was like the rays of sun just beating down on her; her toothless grin lighting up the whole room and lifting Molly's heart. Arthur had really come around to loving that little girl. Today she had actually smiled at him and he had fallen head over teakettle in love with the little charmer, causing Molly to tear up and smile at her husband with all the love she felt for him in her eyes. Her eyes still closed she twirled again.

Suddenly her arm was grabbed in an iron grip and she was forcefully twisted around.

Narcissa struggled against the restraining hands immediately, blindly groping for her wand. She recognized the hand over her mouth and the unbreakable grip around her waist. Fear griped her heart when she heard an all too familiar voice in her ear.

"Hold still and I won't harm you," her husband murmured almost lovingly into her ear, while the arm around her waist drew her closer, pressing her rear to his middle.

Helplessly, she shook her head, still trying to reach her wand, the only protection against him. Before her searching fingers could reach it, Lucius' hand closed around the hilt and yanked it from her belt. She knew she was lost now ...

"tsk, tsk, tsk ... are you trying to get away from me? Why ever would you do that? We are still married after all," he drawled, bored and self-assured.

Trembling uncontrollably by now, Narcissa felt like fainting. Was he after her or the Order? The stiffness against her botto led to the conclusion, falsely or not, that he was indeed after her and intend on his marital rights.

Her heart beat accelerated impossibly higher and her throat constricted. Narcissa had really thought herself safe from Lucius. Well, that bubble burst quickly now! She should have known better. Her struggles ceased and she submitted to his painful grasp on her. She had to play along for now and keep the Order safe. Pleading to any listening deity, Narcissa prayed for the strength to withhold any information she had and withstand Lucius' torture.

"Now that's better. See it's not that bad if you play nicely. I suggest we take that inside," Lucius whispered into her ear, his breath tickling her ear and raising goose bumps of disgust on her skin.

Moaning in despair, Narcissa had no other choice than being dragged towards her house. Her hands uselessly gripped Lucius' arm around her waist in the vain attempt to shake him off. Of course that didn't get her far. His arm only tightened painfully around her and she gasped for air. Sliding her hands over her skirt to wipe the sweaty palms, Narcissa's fingers brushed against her pocket. Through the thin fabric, she could feel some coins and the little parcel she had gotten for Draco's birthday in a few days. The thought of her little boy caused tears to spring into her eyes and her heart to speed up again. She would be damned if she allowed Lucius to poison Draco's mind again and use him for his own devious plans! She would never allow Lucius to get his hands on her son again ... not without a good fight.

Wait! Fight ... coins ... oh God, she was saved!

Harry, in an attempt to finally patch up things with Draco, and Ron out of gratitude for Narcissa's help, had invited Draco to a DA meeting. There he had gotten a coin.

Effortlessly Lucius towed his wife to the front porch of their house. He was thrilled that he had been able to overpower his sweet, little wife ... and without a wand either. That had been easier than he had thought possible. She probably had believed she was safe. How stupid and naive this woman was! A cold, cruel laugh bubbled up in him and the thrilling feeling of victory ... the same feeling he had had when raping Molly. She was meant to be his. This Weasley only interfered and meddled in affairs which weren't his concern.

Narcissa felt anger and hatred radiating from the form behind her. She knew what would happen now ... she had endured it many times before. Fear, paralysing fear engulfed her and she gripped Draco's coin in a tight fist, afraid to lose her hold on it ... her hold on help and safety! How did this thing work again? Why hadn't she paid better attention when Draco explained its use and usage?

Minerva awoke screaming, but was quickly calmed by a familiar, sweet voice.

"Professor, please, you're alright. You're in the Hospital Wing ... Shall I go get Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione spoke softly, her hand instinctively covering her professor's, and Minerva couldn't help but force out a weak smile.

"No, no, I'm quite alright. Wh-Why am I in the Hospital Wing?"

"Well, after you were sick you ... you blacked out ... You were screaming and ... and thrashing ..."

Minerva lowered her head in embarrassment. A student she knew had the upmost respect for her, had to see her in such a state. Hadn't the child already seen enough? Her life was so dangerous being involved with Harry and Ron, and now she had to deal with someone she looked up to for everything being so weak? So fragile? How could that be right?

"I'm sorry," she managed, but Hermione retreated, standing tall above Minerva's bed, and glaring down at her.

"That's exactly why I came here!" she hissed. "To keep you from feeling sorry for yourself ... You aren't sorry for me, you're sorry for you, and there's no reason to be!"

"Hermione, I ..."

"She's right, so don't try and fight with her, Professor. Hermione is right in the sense that you need to stop. There's no reason for you to feel sorry for yourself or anyone else. This isn't the professor I know ... You're usually so strong, so tough ... so warm ... But you've been weak ... and cold ... and you're giving up. I'd think the more you went through in life, the more you'd be an example ... But you're nothing I thought you were! You're fake ... Everything I've known for all these years of you, is fake. Just an act you try and hold up so no one sees the real you ... A side maybe they wouldn't be too happy with ... I know I'm not happy with it!" Harry screamed. "I'm not happy at all to have been lied to for so long about what a great person you are! I loved you like a Mum, but you could never measure up to her! Never! You don't deserve my concern, or my sympathy." He stood. "I have better places to be, like Defence Against the Dark Arts ... so I can actually learn how to defend myself and not have to wallow in self-pity someday."

Hermione stared at Harry. She was speechless. Never had she seen him that angry.

Minerva herself stared up into the boy's green eyes ... so very much like her eldest daughter's had been ... like her own had been ... before Tom had taken the spark out of them ...

She couldn't be angry at him. Everything he had said was right. She was being a coward and wallowing in self-pity but he didn't know what it was like to feel that helpless, to have every chance of escape taken from you. How was she supposed to forget and just go on with her life? ... She couldn't do that. Her nightmares were only part of the continued terror Tom still had, even dead.

"Mr. Potter ..."

"Cut the crap, Professor!" Harry yelled, losing his temper fully. He grabbed Minerva by her shoulders and began to shake her hard. His fingers dug into her flesh and she gasped in pain, trying valiantly to get away from him. "Come on, greatest witch, fight me, get rid of me, blast me out of the room!" he challenged icily, taunting her.

Hermione gasped and rushed forward to tear Harry away from her mentor, but Harry just shoved her away with one hand.

"Nothing, Professor?" he taunted again. "You really have become weak. You are no longer the woman I look up to, the woman who had taken a mother's place in my heart! You are nothing anymore!"

And suddenly Minerva was free again. The following silence was suffocating. Minerva was reduced to a trembling mass on the bed, pathetic and weak. She couldn't defend herself ... she had no strength left to do that. She merely curled up into a tight ball as if protecting the pain inside.

Her children were gone.

Her dignity was gone.

Her self-respect was gone.

Her marriage was a thing of the past.

Her husband surely only pretended to love her still.

What was left to fight for?

Nothing ...

Narcissa yelped in pain as another Cruciatus curse hit her squarely in the chest. Her body contorted in pain, limps straining against her bonds.

"Stop. Stop ... Please stop."

She couldn't hold it in any longer. Her eyes were begging, filled with tears from her loss ... She wanted her husband to just kill her ... She wanted the pain to stop. She bit her lip, shaking her head at how weak she suddenly felt again. Where had her new strength gone? She looked down at the cold, wood floor beneath her, giving up.

Lucius stood there a moment, staring down on her and then grabbed the top half of her dress and pulled her up to stand in front of him, but she couldn't. Her legs gave out completely ... The curses he'd put on her had taken all of her strength and she could no longer stand. She fell into his arms and looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Tell me where she is!" he demanded softly.

Narcissa shook her head but she knew as well as Lucius that she would speak in the end. He had his ways to get information.

Draco was beginning to wonder what his mother was up to these days. She hadn't written in days ... weeks even come to think of it. Shaking his head, Draco chided himself for being silly. She was probably cooped up with Molly over little Ginger, helping out and babysitting.

He had to smile at the thought. His mother had definitely come a long way. She was now much more confident ... and so much happier. Draco still couldn't believe how rich her laughter was, how beautiful her smiles, how joyful her whole being. Now in retrospect he could see how miserable she had been before. Now he could see what Harry had seen at the Quidditch World Cup, that her face and been set in a resigned grimace. Draco wanted to kick himself for never noticing that before, but what good did it to cry over spilt milk?

He just wished Professor McGonagall would do as well as his mother. He sighed. But she was far from well at all. Professor Dumbledore had taken over her lessons with the help of Professor Flitwick, but neither man was brilliant enough to keep up with Professor McGonagall. Flitwick had no talent for transformations and simply copied lessons from books and Dumbledore seemed too far away to really educate his classes.

Somehow Draco had to find something to cheer her up ... Maybe his mother knew something? If only she would finally answer his letters.

Arthur was bending over the pram with little Ginger in it and cooed to her. She stretched out her arms and smiled toothlessly up to him.

"If one looks at you like that, one could almost forget the last night ... but only almost," he informed his daughter with a grin, which was immediately answered by Ginger.

_Three week old Ginger was screaming her head off and Molly couldn't bring herself to drag her sorry behind out of bed. Beside her Arthur steered sleepily. Groaning at being wakened for the fourth time this night, he rolled over and out of bed. He stepped up to the cradle, crooning softly to his baby girl inside.__ She kept her eyes open, but stayed completely still as she watched the two of them, Arthur rocking and patting him, before he sat down in the chair._

_ "Hush, hush, what's all this fuss about? __Don't tell Mummy this, but you are a lucky little princess to have her in your life – she is a wonderful mother, and I'm a little jealous (just kidding) of the attention she's giving you … don't ever forget that she's a lovely lady, and loves you very much … as I do …"_

_Molly pretended to be asleep when he returned to bed, but she had been __incredibly moved by his speech … But she wasn't going to tell him that she had heard him …_

"Hey, dad," a voice interrupted.

Arthur looked up and saw Charlie walking towards him with a piece of parchment in his hand and a look on his face as if he was sent to the gallows.

"Hey, son, what's the matter?" Arthur asked sympathetically.

"Mum, sends me to go shopping," Charlie wailed.

Arthur smiled but could understand his son. It was either to steal an egg from a mother dragon than facing Molly with the wrong purchases ... especially now that she was a nervous, sleep-depraved wreck due to little, grinning-from-ear-to-ear Ginger.

"How about I come with you and we take your little sister out for a stroll?" Arthur asked and received a boyishly relieved grin ... this time with flashing teeth.


	10. Doom and Rescue Lie So Close Together

**Doom and Rescue Lie So Close Together**

Narcissa wreathed in pain as one Cruciatus Curse followed the other. Some time ago she had lost count of how many she had endured. Her bones felt like heavy, splintered shards of agonizing sharpness, ripping open her flesh, tearing through muscle, leaving her limp and helpless before the man who once had promised to protect her from all evil and keep her safe.

Minerva lay in the hospital bed, staring blankly at the heavy doors through which Harry had disappeared, dragging Hermione along behind him, and slamming the door shut with such force that pieces of the ceiling had fallen down.

How could he say those things to her? She was still his professor, a person of respect!

'Some teacher you are, abandoning your students like this!' the rational part of her mind snarled. It was the part of Minerva who was not paralysed by fear and horrible memories, her old and true self, buried deeply in her soul. Initially Minerva had done that to stop thinking ... so that Tom wouldn't break her ... so she wouldn't succumb to insanity ... to keep her innermost safe from his groping mind. 'And what is your excuse now? She sardonically asked her panicky self.

"To stay safe," she whispered into the silent room.

'From what? Harry? Your students? Molly? ... Or even Albus?' The ruthless interrogation continued.

"All of them." Again it was barely more than a breathless whisper.

'Why?'

"Because they don't know ..." It was defensive now.

'Molly doesn't know? Excuse me, but she was the one with you in that cell!'

"But ..." Her voice died away.

'But what?' her inner self shouted.

"But she doesn't care anymore. She has her family ... her children ... her loving husband ... her children ..." Her voice became smaller and smaller until it died away completely. Tears streamed down her face, and she didn't even attempt to stop them.

'Now that is ... the most stupid thing I have ever heard, including some of your first years' answers,' came the very sarcastic answer. 'Now you listen and you better listen good! Harry is absolutely right ...'

"What?" Minerva sat bolt upright in her bed, enraged.

'He is absolutely right,' was the calm reply. 'Albus loves you. If he didn't, he had not rescued you. If he didn't, he would have left you by now. And speaking about children ... Why do you think Harry double-dared your famous wrath and yelled at you? The answer is simple because he loves you, because he thinks of you as one mother figure. In fact, all your Gryffindor cubs are your children. They love you ... and if you weren't that bloody stubborn, they would love to help you!'

Minerva covered her ears in a vain attempt to shut out her own inner voice. "Please no more," she whined. "Please stop."

"Where is she?"

The yell penetrated her daze. Her tongue darted out, licking her dry and cracked-open lips. Her throat worked, but no sound was emitted. Sighing in defeat and relief, for the torture had stopped momentarily, she opened one eye, pleading for him to stop, pleading that he let her go.

The only answer she got was a cruel laugh before a bone-breaking curse hit her right wrist.

Arthur waited for his son to greet all the people in the Leaky Cauldron. It wasn't very often that Charlie came to visit and met old acquaintances ... not that his mother would approve of any of them ... so Arthur smiled indulgently and waited at a table in a corner. Ginger lay securely in his arms and gnawed happily on a muggle contraption Harry had gotten her ... it was called a pacific ... no, that couldn't be right ... ahh, yes, a pacifier!

Finally it seemed that Charlie could get away from his friends. He strolled over to his father, grinning and in a much better mood than when they had left Grimmauld Place.

Lucius looked down on the disgusting piece of quivering, bleeding flesh with a grimace. If he wanted to get the information he sought, he had to keep the muggle-loving slut alive ... at least until he had the information.

With a flick of his wand he conjured up a heavy manacle with a chain attached to the wall. Then, almost lovingly, he placed the manacle on his wife's ankle.

"So you don't run away ... as if you could," he whispered into her ear and licked the blood running down her face from a cut in her eyebrow. "I'll go to Knockturn Alley and get you some potions, so we can prolong our fun." He trailed his fingers down her arm and took great pleasure from her whimper.

"Did you have fun meeting all your friends again?" Arthur asked his second eldest, trying hard not to sound too eager.

Charlie glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and shrugged a little. "Yeah, it was kinda nice to see the folks," he agreed.

"I imagine so. I mean, it must get lonely at times all alone in Rumania."

Charlie laughed raucously at that. "I'm hardly alone, Dad, with all those pretty dragon ladies to keep me company. Besides I do have friend in Rumania. The language isn't as hard as I thought at the beginning. ... Uhm, and I ... I do have a ... a girl over there," he stammered at last.

Arthur stopped dead, jolting the pram into an abrupt halt as well, causing Ginger to start fussing. "You have a what?"

"Now really, Dad, you upset Ginger," Charlie chided, sounding a lot like this mother. With a cluck of his tongue, making him even more like Molly, he bent down and picked up his baby sister. Carefully balancing her head in his hand, he moved her to his shoulder and let her settle there.

Arthur watched him closely. He remembered how he had been with Bill in the beginning. He had been all thumbs, awkwardly handling the baby, always afraid he might break something or hurt the baby in any way. Charlie seemed not to be afraid of dropping his sister at all. He even bounced her professionally up and down in his arms. Soon the fussing stopped and Ginger snuggled contentedly into her big brother's shoulder.

"Say, Charlie, where have you learned to handle babies this well?" Arthur asked conversationally.

A faint blush crept up in Charlie's face. "Urm, you and Mum? I mean with five younger sibs I did get some practice," he said, not sounding too sincere.

"Charlie."

His son looked down and winced a little. "Ok, Dad, I have a little boy ..."

"You're a father, Charlie?" Arthur asked incredulously, not in the least upset. "Ahh, now some things become clear. This girl in Rumania, is she your wife?" This question was asked carefully and with some delicacy.

"Yes, she is. ... You're not mad?"

"No, son, I'm not mad. Maybe it's time to consider coming home ... with your family and have them meet the rest of our crazy, loud family."

"Dad, why do I get the feeling that this was what you planned to ask me all along?" Charlie asked shrewdly.

Arthur laughed and shrugged his shoulders carelessly. "Dunno, son, maybe intuition inherited from your mum."

They shared a laugh together and set off walking again. Talk flowed easily between the two men, often interspersed with laugher and good-natured bantering. Neither of them noticed the dark shadow at the entrance to Knockturn Alley. Neither of them noticed how it disengaged itself from the wall and followed them at some distance. Neither of them was aware of the mad glint of pure hatred in the shadow's eyes.

"Ah here we are, Madam Amanda's Baby Shop. Molly wants a new set of baby clothes and some of that chilli chocolate ... I can't believe I need to buy more of that stuff." Arthur sighed.

"More of that stuff?" Charlie asked carefully, eyeing his dad and having a weird feeling of premonition in the pit of his stomach.

"Your mother has cravings sometimes even after her pregnancies, but only for a few months."

'I knew it,' Charlie thought, wanting to bang his head against the nearby wall. 'Orla never had that.'

Arthur purposefully strode into the shop and Charlie quickly followed. Inside he was struck dumb. Only women were in the shop and all of them were in various stages of pregnancy or had little babies with them. His father, though, moved to the counter and leaned forward, resting his elbow leisurely on the counter.

"Hello, Amanda dear, how are you?" he asked conversationally, laughing at the rather plumb, redish-blonde woman behind the counter.

"Arthur!" Madam Amanda, presumably, bustled around her workplace and hugged Arthur tightly. "I'm fine, very fine. And how are you? Still doing well by my cousin, I hope," she teased him laughingly, waving a finger in front of his face.

Arthur laughed as well and hugged her back. "Oh yes, Molly and I are fine too. May I introduce you to our latest addition? ... Oh, and you know Charlie?"

"Of course I do. Last time I saw him he was still wearing diapers!" She now bustled over to Charlie and hugged him as well. Charlie and blushed a bright red and tried, in vain, to remember that woman.

Arthur finally took pity on him and introduced them properly, "This is your mother's cousin, Amanda Prewett Hamilton. She lived in Australia up until recently ..."

"Yes, but my husband died on me while tending to his sheep and I decided to pay my relatives a visit. Now I'm back in the 'mother country' and doing what I did before. How are you, Charlie, my boy?"

"Fine," he mumbled, still trying to digest the news.

Arthur interrupted, seeing clearly that hi son was rather uncomfortable, "Hey, listen, Amanda, I really need some of your famous chilli chocolate. Do you have any in stock?"

"Hmm, yes, but it's in the back of the shop. Can I take your handsome son with me? I might need some help getting it off the top shelf."

Arthur grinned and clapped his son on the back_Sarah Moritz schreibt gerade..._. "Go ahead, Charlie. Go help Amanda."

Charlie smiled and nodded slightly, following her to the back of the shop while Arthur turned around to browse through the clothes for girls. His face lit up as he spotted a small, frilly pink dress ... Ginny had had one just like it when she was little. Setting Ginger down in the pram, he turned around to skim through sizes to find one small enough for his little girl, all the while smiling at the mothers also browsing through clothes.

Lucius saw his opportunity and quickly put a Disillusionment Charm on himself, turning him into a pregnant woman for everyone who looked at him. He snuck up behind Arthur, pretending to look for clothes and suddenly taking an interest in the breast pumps laying by the counter.

With a girly giggle, Lucius bent over the pram with his child inside and put on a farce of cooing to the baby. Then, when Arthur was returning his attention back to the frilly dresses, Lucius quickly bent over the pram and picked up Ginger, bringing her close to his body and behind the Disillusionment Charm. Then he calmly walked out the door, even calling over his shoulder, "Sorry, I didn't find anything", to the returning Amanda. As soon as he was out the shop he apparated. No need for the potions after all.


	11. Lullaby for a Scared Child

_A./N.: The song is from Lion King 2. It's the song little Kovu hears in preparation of one day killing Simba. I thought it fitting but what do you think? The scene when Molly and Minerva find out was inspired by Sleeping's-force-inside. I read her story Forced Marriage 2 shortly before writing this. I couldn't get the picture she created out of my head._

**Lullaby for a Scared Child**

Draco was frightened. He had been helping Professors Flitwick and Snape guarding the gardens around his home, where Professor Dumbledore had told his to stay while the rest of the Order was searching the manor for Narcissa. He had been told not to go into the house, because his father could still be around and they didn't know in what condition they would find his mother. But when the entire grounds had been checked and double-checked for his father and wards had been put up, Draco couldn't resist to search for his mother on his own. He silently ran up the stairs, into the house, and up to the second floor. He then burst through the doors to his parents' bedroom, but his mother wasn't there – no one was there. He suddenly realized that it was beginning to get dark and he was all alone in the big, empty and intimidating house.

Draco didn't like being alone. It made him think of the other time he had been alone, and he didn't like to think about that, he _would _not. He wouldn't let it come into his mind when it tried to. He would not think or speak about it. But now he was frightened, and it was just like that last time, when he had come in from outside and found Mama lying there looking so white, and he had tried to wake her up, calling to her over and over, and his panic when he had seen the blood from a cut above her eyebrow.

He looked around in the silent corridor and wondered if his mother could be somewhere in the hidden passageways. But when he reached the first entrance to the archives and peaked in, he found no one there, and his fear grew; he had never been here in the bellies of the manor alone and at night before.

And then, just as he was about to exit the passageway, he saw a shoe in the otherwise dark tunnel. He bravely walked into the passage way and stumbled into the dark until suddenly he was blinded by fierce white light. Taking another step, he suddenly stumbled over something. When his eyes adjusted to the light he saw a figure, a woman lying on the ground next to him. He was suddenly back in time and the bad thing was happening all over again.

"Mama!" he cried. "Mama, wake up! Don't sleep! Mama, Mama!" He tugged at her, but she did not respond.

He tried to think. He should go for help. He should run and get somebody. But he was too afraid. He threw himself down and tugged at his mother's arm again.

"No, no, no!" he cried, feeling helpless and terrified. "Mama! Wake up!" He buried his face in his hands and sobbed. He was a bad boy; he couldn't wake Mama. He couldn't move, or go for help. He just stayed there and cried.

Finally, the crying subsided and he looked at Narcissa again. Her eyes were closed, her hair was spread on the floor. And he realized: this time there was no blood.

He got to his knees and said, confused, "What did he do to you? Mama, wake up. Please wake up." He shook her shoulder. "Wake up now, Mama."

He stood up and stared down at her, gripped with terror and indecision. He looked over his shoulder and saw the light at the other end of the tunnel. He looked at Narcissa again. He didn't want to leave her, he was afraid to leave her. But if he didn't go for help, then she might die.

He turned and ran.

"Help, help, help," he called as he ran into the corridor and down the stairs. "Help! Mama's hurt! Mama's hurt!"

Narcissa slowly came round at his frantic shouting. Glassy eyes opened and she gazed tiredly up into her son's face. A sweet smile flitted across her features. She tried to lift up her hand but flinched as pain shot through her body.

"I thought I wouldn't see you again," she whispered hoarsely, her voice barely audible and still raw from her previous screams.

Draco dropped to his knees once more and cradled her head in his lap. "Mama, please don't say that," he begged her, feeling devastated at heart.

"Oh, sweetheart, don't worry ... Mummy's here," she whispered, subconsciously choosing her first of years past when he had been a toddler. After a moment longer, during which she gazed lovingly up into his eyes, she closed her eyes and softly, wheezingly hummed the lullaby she had sung to him back then.

oOoOoOo

Arthur searched frantically through the store. She couldn't have vanished. She was a baby, for crying out loud ... honestly, how far could she get?

Charlie was asking every woman if they had seen his little sister. None had noticed anything strange. For there was nothing strange about one woman admiring another's child ...

Charlie whipped around. "What did you say?"

The lady thus addressed, took a step back, but repeated her story, "A woman came in. Must be her first child because I never saw her here before. She leaned over the pram, cooing to your sister. That's all. Really, we all did."

"Do you, by chance, remember what she looked like?" Charlie asked tremulously.

Somehow, and he sure as hell had no explanation, Bellatrix Lestrange or the Carrow sister had gotten into Diagon Alley. No, not Lestrange, he mused, she would be recognised in a second. And they had no magic to hide their identity. But since the Ministry had still not recognised the efforts of the Order publicly – or even to themselves – no warning signs had been put up, no pictures published. Could they have none the less snuck into the Wizarding Shopping Mile? It seemed to very unlikely!

Arthur dragged his hands over his face, desperately trying to cling to the last remnants of control and hope.

"Amanda, what am I going to do?" he whispered, tears forming in his eyes. "How am I going to tell Molly?"

But he didn't have to ...

oOoOoOo

Headquarters was shocked awake by a terrible scream. High-pitched and inhuman, it sounded through the lazy afternoon. Two women shot up in their beds, clawing at their chests. The red-haired woman could not contain a scream at the agony originating from her heart. The black-haired suffered in silence if though she wanted to scream as well. Years of suppressing her emotions to be able to protect her students forced her to push aside her emotions and think rationally.

As the pain abated, both heard the voices coming from outside their rooms. Unknowing of the reason for the screams, but scared nonetheless by them. The Weasley children could be heard running up to their mother's room.

When the pain finally turned numb, Molly turned towards the window of her bedroom. She could not believe what had happened just now. It simply was not possible. Her little daughter had been torn from her.

Gingerly she rose and moved towards the door leading out into the hallway. Her hand trembled when she pushed it open. But she just couldn't bring herself to step out. She didn't even really see her children standing around her.

Another scream from her own chest – softer, but just as pain-filled – shook the doorframe she had to lean against in support. She did not notice the pain in her children's eyes. She only noticed the picture her mind formed for her, a vision from her youngest daughter. She saw her little Virginia laying on a damp, crabby cloth. Fuzzing and crying.

Someone entered her room and she couldn't care less who it was. Her brown eyes reflected her inner despair and turmoil. A hand gripped her arm and shook her. After she didn't react the shaking became worse, but she was simply unable to tear her gaze away from her vision of Virginia ... and suddenly she saw Lucius Malfoy leaning over her child.

'Now I have my answer what happened. What caused this pain.' She tore her arm out of the grasp of the other person. An inner fire lighted her eyes and her face became hard as stone. Lucius would have to face her wrath now. In a way she could deal with what he had done to her, but that he now had the unmitigated gall to abduct her daughter and hold her captive ... She would kill him for that!

Minerva had recognized the pain the moment it began. She had felt it before; twenty years ago, when her daughter had gone missing, when her son had been killed, when she had lost her second daughter, and finally when her youngest had so suddenly disappeared. It was the pain of losing a child forever.

Now her emerald eyes gazed from her bed towards the nearest window, searching instinctively for the origin of this pain. She suddenly had a vision in said window. Clearly displayed on the glass was the image of little Ginger in grave danger. A ghostly hand was stretched out towards her, holding a very feminine looking wand.

She swallowed as she rose. She felt the weight of all her years in service of others, of fighting for the light side, of standing firm for the weak upon her. While never looking away from the scene in the reflection of her window, she reached for her wand.

"Minerva!" Albus stood in the door. The only one able to enter her private room without being hexed out of fear of an intruder. "What is happening?"

Minerva kept staring out of the window.

"I saw Ginger ..." she mumbled.

"Whatever happened, Molly felt it, too." Only now Minerva turned away and gazed upon her husband. Her face was an unreadable mask. 'Of course, Molly knows ... it's her daughter,' she thought grimly.

"I must go to her," she said, sounding stronger than she had in months.

"I know, my love," Albus nodded in agreement, but sadness overshadowed his eyes. Again she would not trust him enough to confide in him. What had once been between them had irrevocably been destroyed by Voldemort.

oOoOoOo

Lucius had never been good with children. Not with his own or the children of his friends. And now here he was standing over the old cradle holding his daughter, who was crying hysterically. It was plain that something was wrong with her. He just didn't know why she was upset. He couldn't think of anything.

Looking again at her innocent, scrunched-up face, turning red from all the crying, he wondered if he could really pull his plan off. Suddenly a smile spread over his face. They wouldn't know what hit them.

Remembering his wife sing to Draco, this weak, disappointing brat. A lullaby. Maybe that would calm her.

Sleep, my little girl

Let your dreams take wing

One day when you're big and strong

You will be queen

Good night, my little princess

Tomorrow, your training begins

I've been exiled, persecuted,

Left alone with no defense.

When I think of

What that brute did

I get a little tense

But I dream a dream

So pretty

That I don't feel so depressed.

Cause it soothes my inner kitty

And it helps me get some rest.

The sound of Albus' dying gasp.

His students squealing in my grasp.

His lioness' mournful cry.

That's my lullaby

Now the past I've tried forgetting

And my foes I could forgive.

Trouble is, I know it's petty

But I hate to let them live.

So I found myself somebody

Who'd chase them up a tree.

Oh, the battle may be bloody,

But that kind of works for me.

The melody of angry growls,

A counterpoint of painful yowls,

A symphony of death, oh my

That's my lullaby

The Dark Lord is gone ...

But I am still around

To love this little girl

Till she learns to be a killer

With a lust of being bad!

One day when you're big and strong

You will be a queen!

The pounding of the drums of war

The thrill of your mighty war cry

The joy of vengeance tesitfy!

I can hear the cheering!

Payback time is nearing

And then our flag will fly

Against a blood-red sky

That's my lullaby


	12. Awakening Courage

A./N.: I'm truly sorry for not having updated in decades it feels. I started a new job at a school and was quite busy getting situated and comfortable in my new role. Again I'm sorry my writing suffered the consequences and so you did as well. But here is a new chapter now and I hope I haven't lost my touch. Hope you enjoy reading and please leave a review for me ... that what the nice botton at the foot of the page is for. ;)

LG Faithful

**Awakening Courage**

Minerva walked out of her room carefully, with measured steps. She dreaded seeing Molly in despair ... again. There was no help for it, though. Molly needed her and that was that. Her own feelings would have to stand back ... once more.

Albus had been understanding as always, but saddened that she hadn't told him what had scared her. Truth be told she still didn't trust herself to trust others, the exception being Molly ... and that was why she had to be there for her friend despite her bitter memories. It was as simple and as complicated as that. Her husband was close behind her, not letting her out of his sight these days. He would find out soon enough what had happened, what had caused such agony in both his wife and her best friend. What Minerva didn't quite understand was why she had felt and seen what Molly had.

Moving down the stairs to the second story, Minerva could make out nothing except a cluster of red-heads. She strained her neck a little to get a closer look and maybe make out Molly, but couldn't. Ron, tall and gangly Ron, had moved to block her vision. With a huff Minerva descended the last few steps and pushed through the twins. Her fear of the other sex was quite forgotten in her need to be with her friend. She was needed.

Fred and George stood back, looking surprised. Then, slowly, a grin spread over their faces briefly, but it was definitely there for a moment. Their professor had certainly looked and acted like her former self, whereas their mother seemed uncharacteristically quiet and serious. Whatever had awakened her, it had scared the hell out of her. And that in turn scared the hell out of them.

Had it been merely another nightmare? No, that couldn't be it. Molly hadn't had any nightmares since Ginger had been born and Arthur had come around, adopted her, and begged his wife to let him be part of her life.

"Molly?" Minerva's commanding voice cut through the haze of questions.

Molly turned towards her like a scared child would to its mother. She saw the same horror, she knew was reflected in her own eyes, in Minerva's eyes. Sighing in relief, she knew that she wouldn't have to explain. She wasn't sure if she could without breaking down. Her eyes pleaded with Minerva to say all would be well, it had simply been a dream and nothing more. Alas Minerva turned her head to the side, not meeting her eyes straight on. Another pain stabbed through her soul.

"Minerva?" It was more a question this time. Minerva reacted instantly, surging forward and embracing Molly in a bear-hug.

"Sh, sh, sweetheart, I'm here. I'm here and we will find her."

oOoOoOo

The wheezing stopped suddenly and Draco's hand slowly, hesitantly came up to check his mother's pulse at her throat. Holding his breath and praying to God, his fingers moved over her neck until he finally felt a weak pulse beat under his fingertips. Then suddenly the pulse stopped and Draco held his breath, hoping – begging for the next one to come. A slight fluttering sensation under his tips brought the relief he had been hoping for, but Draco knew that he was running out of time. He didn't know if his father would be coming back any second now or if Professor Snape would beat him to them. All he knew was that he had to get out of here and get his mother to Madame Pomfrey as fast as possible. He just had to or his mother would die.

Up until now Draco had only proved that he had a big mouth, but when it really mattered he would hide behind others and let Crabbe and Goyle do the dirty work. He was a whimp, a coward, Harry Potter was right about that. Now, though, was the moment when he could prove himself worthy – the moment he had to or watch his mother die.

Malfoy Manor, like so many other old wizarding mansions, was bonded to the family who lived in it and would do the biding of every blood relative. Narcissa had never been able to fully control the house and its magic, but Draco was a blood relative and for the first time he would call upon that bond to get them both to the safety of the Order.

oOoOoOo

Arthur on the other hand was beyond comfort. He had lost his little daughter, and he knew that no amount of reasoning would convince Molly that he hadn't done it on purpose because little Ginger was Lucius' offspring.

Charlie had never seen his father this distraught before. He was quite transformed by grief and panic. His bald crown was gleaming with perspiration and his eyes were blood-shot and frantically moving to and fro like MadEye's magical eye in the hope of catching any sign of where his child had disappeared to. With a heart-felt sigh Charlie moved outside, he couldn't stand seeing the helplessness in his father's eyes and feeling his own paralyzing his very being. Tears were prickling his eyes but he stubbornly refused to let them fall, they wouldn't help Virginia. Instead he focussed on the street before him, slowly counting the steps it took him to cross it, the cobblestones that paved the street … suddenly he noticed a little bit of lace trapped on the sharp edge of one of those stones, winking playfully at him while a small breeze ruffled it. Bending low he worked it free and examined it more closely. It was from Virginia's bonnet. He remembered how his mother had fussed over it this morning and had wanted to fix it with quick spell before they left the house, but Arthur had chuckled and said it was ok and she should fix it later … he had accused Molly of just not wanting Virginia out of her sight and looking for silly reasons to delay their departure. Now Charlie was thanking God for the unravelling trimming.

Slowly, so that no detail would go unnoticed by him, he looked up and down the street again. He suddenly noticed an overturned bucket and some footsteps in a sandy patch near Eyeloop's Owlery … near the entrance to Knockturn. Swallowing thickly, Charlie took out his wand and walked towards the one street his parents had always warned him off and the one street he and his brothers had always longed to visit.

It was almost surreal. During the war Diagon Alley had changed, had suffered wounds and losses. Knockturn, on the other hand, had thrived. The poor beggars had left the dark alley to do their shady business out in the open under the new ruler. All the windows were brightly coloured and packed with goods to allegedly ward off evil forces, but in reality only furthered the effects of hostile hexes. Charlie had no illusion that the goods sold in Knockturn were more dangerous now than before the war, because the Ministry did nothing to control them anymore.

Standing uncertainly at the entrance to Knockturn, Charlie thought carefully about his next moves. Should he inform his father and the Order that he had a suspicion that Ginger's kidnapper had run into this street? It sounded ridiculous without real evidence. Should he then investigate on his own? No, that too was ludicrous. He could run headfirst into danger. And who told him that the kidnapper was still in Knockturn? Wizards could apparate after all. He took a deep breath and tried to gather his thoughts. First he had to find out who would gain anything from kidnapping his little sister?

LUCIUS MALFOY!

It was the first – and really the only – name that came to mind.

"That vicious bastard!" Charlie growled. And without giving it another thought he walked into Knockturn Alley.


	13. A Son's Courage and Redemption

**A Son's Courage and Redemption**

Charlie's heart was beating wildly in his chest as he considered all his options and his next move. As a dragon keeper he knew of the importance to always be two steps ahead of his foe, to never let them get the better of you. He also knew that it was not an option to go to his brothers with this information. Bill would be too pig-headed and impulsive to really think and storm into battle (always a true Gryffindor) without thinking, relying on his quick reflexes and his experience as a curse breaker to get him out of whatever mess he got himself into. The twins would do the same and rely on their innovativeness and the countless tricks up their sleeves. Ron had his heart in the right place but also tended to storm ahead without thinking. His father would have to tell his wife and the rest of the Order what had happened … he didn't envy the man and felt sharp sympathy rising for both his parents. How would his mother feel when she was told her youngest child was missing, probably in the hands of the last man she wanted in contact with her child? He wanted to be there for both of them, but he knew that too much time had already passed by and they needed to move fast to save Ginger. Charlie knew that he had to gather as much information as possible and hopefully find the hiding place of that creep before he could call in the Order. Going alone though was foolishness. An idea struck and he nodded to himself slowly, once, then again. In a swift motion he raised his wand.

"Expecto Patronum," he quietly said the words and watched his miniature dragon burst from the tip of his wand and then flutter before him, waiting for instruction since there was no Dementor to defeat.

"Go and find my brother Percy. Tell him I need him and to come to Malfoy Manor as quickly as possible."

oOoOoOo

Draco had to get help and he knew that his mother was not in any condition to be moved. She needed a healer before she could be brought to Hogwarts, Headquarters or St. Mungo's. He had no illusions that she would survive transportation without proper treatment first. His own heart was beating wildly, willing his mother's heart to beat faster and keep pumping that life-giving blood and oxygen through her body. Slowly he started to get up and down to the salon where he could helpfully flu for help to Madame Pomfrey or Headquarters. Mrs. Weasley was a fine healer, too, and fond of his mother. Maybe Professor Snape was there as well and could help with tonics and potions.

"I'll be right back, Mum," he said quietly, not sure if he was reassuring her or himself. "And then we'll get you out of here and you'll be fine in no time, you'll see."

It was heart-breaking to see her like that. Lately she had been such a vibrant, happy, and breath-takingly beautiful woman. Now she resembled more the shadow she had been throughout her marriage. Draco finally begun to understand what it must have been like for her all those years. The constant abuse, the pain, the fear, and the resignation. Life, though, had given her a second chance and Draco vowed that she would be able to experience everything her life so far had been devoid of.

He quickly cast the spell that would bind him to his house and now felt his mother's heartbeat reverberate through him as if his ear was pressed to the floor close to her chest. Draco could also feel that there was someone at the gates to the Manor. Fear gripped his heart again. Had his father returned to finish what he had started? How could he face him? How could he stop him?

With another quick glance down on his mother, Draco decided that he would not go down without a fight for his mother's life. She was all he had left in this world. His father was a convicted, trialled and exiled criminal, his family's reputation was gone, his money was frozen in Gringott's, his former friends had turned their backs on him because his mother had helped the Order. Narcissa Malfoy was the only fix in a life that had turned upside down. He would protect her … or die trying.

Hastening out of the secret corridor, he had to blink into the glare of the summer's sun, still high in the sky. He had lost track of time in there but now a look at the clock revealed it had only be a short time span that had elapsed.

With his newfound courage, Draco ran down to the main entrance and then through the gardens to the gate. He stopped short a few feet from it. Instead of seeing the long blonde hair of his father and he horrible sneer, he saw a red-head with freckles and a rather grim but confused expression on his face.

"What are you doing here?" It left both of their mouths at the same time. "I could ask you the same." Again they said it together.

Charlie Weasley glared at the blonde youth but figured that Draco Malfoy had more right to visit his childhood home than he had. Nevertheless he would give the boy a stern talking-to about the dangers of strolling around alone in war times. Draco, too, had just drawn breath to speak when there were two soft pops nearby and two other people appeared. Immediately four wands were raised and confused glances shot to and fro.

Professor Snape was the first to speak. "Draco, what did your mother say when she brought you to us?" he asked, falling back to the ritual of checking the identity of his opponents. He was after all a creature of war.

"She said, 'Trust me'," Draco said, wondering how Snape could know that since he hadn't been there at the time.

Professor Snape now focussed on the other two men, but before he could open his mouth a question was fired at him.

"What is my sister's name?" Charlie barked, his wand pointed dead on at Snape's heart. He had seen the last wisps of his own patronus accompanying Percy as he had apparated.

Snape relaxed at the question and a smile appeared around his lips. "Her name is Virginia, but your mother always calls her Ginger." Now Charlie was chuckling as well, lowering his wand and then stowing it away entirely.

"What on earth are you talking about?" demanded Percy. "I have only one sister and her name is most assuredly _not_ Virginia or Ginger. Her name is Ginny!" He seemed confused beyond measure – and that in turn made him angry. Percival Weasley hated nothing more than being the only one not in knowing what everybody else was talking about.

"Can't this wait till later?" Draco was close to shouting. His hand gripped his wand so tightly it was ready to snap and tiny sparks were coming out of the tip of it. "MY MOTHER IS DYING!" he roared it in his anxiety to get her help. Through the bond with the house he could feel her heart failing her more and more often.

Professor Snape's head whipped around and for a moment he simply stared at Draco. Then his mouth formed the word 'No' but no sound came out. His colour was draining rapidly from his face and his knuckles turned white as he now gripped his own wand tightly. Without a word he began to run towards the house, half-dripping over the seam of his long robes.

"Where is she?" Charlie asked Draco more harshly then intended as his own worry now focussed on the imminent problem of saving Narcissa.

"I'll show you. Come on."

Draco sprinted off in the direction of the big manor and easily overtook his professor. All four men raced through the house without seeing its splendour and extravagance. They were all trapped within their own thoughts. Draco was intent on his mother and her hopeful recovery.

Snape's only thought was to get to Narcissa, to hold her in his arms and never let go. He never should have allowed her to go to the Manor alone. He should have insisted on going with her. She had been so happy this morning as she had gotten word from her friend, who had migrated to Australia after school and who had promised to help them in their quest to look for Minerva's long lost daughter. Narcissa had even embraced him in her happiness and planted a kiss on his cheek. There had been that moment between them. That moment when you know that you want to kiss someone and know that it is going to happen then and there. That moment just before your lips meet. They had experienced that moment, but had been interrupted by the ever-occurring ruckus of Headquarters. Now he would be damned if he let go of his second chance for love.

Charlie was torn between helping Mrs. Malfoy and start searching for his little sisters. The more time they lost, the more likely they wouldn't find her. The track would be cold.

Percy had more questions than before. Why had Charlie summoned him? Why had he been summoned to this place? What was going on? Since when was his family on friendly terms with Snape and the Malfoys? Why would his brother go out of his way to help Mrs. Malfoy? Why had Charlie not remembered Ginny's name? What had he been talking about a Virginia? … What else had he missed since going against his family?

His litany of questions came to an abrupt end as they entered a private living room and Percy saw a hole in the wall. Draco, in the lead, disappeared through it without hesitation and Snape quickly followed him.

What he saw in the dim light from Draco's wand up ahead stopped his heart. Narcissa was covered in blood, her one leg was sticking out at an odd angle, her face was distorted by bruises.

"No." This time sounds emerged from the depth of his soul.

Severus fell to his knees onto the hard, wooden floor beside Narcissa and carefully gathered her into his arms. "Narcissa? … Cissa, talk to me. Love, please." His tears came quick now, falling off his cheeks and onto the wound on her shoulder. "Oh, God. Don't take her from me. I can't do that again. Not again." The hand with which he checked Narcissa's pulse was trembling. For a moment he was afraid that she had died but then he felt a slight bump against his fingertips.

Narcissa was only somewhat coherent at that moment, her mind going back and forth from awake to sleeping, living to dying, fighting or giving up.

"S-Sev-erus?" she managed weakly when she finally came to. He was yelling her name, screaming for her to please answer him, and now she finally did, he sobbed, pulling her close to him.

Blood and sweat rolled down her body and she ached all over from the torture Lucius had subjected her to, but Severus stayed far away from any wounds, so as not to irritate it, but still held her as close to his heart as possible. It felt so incredibly wonderful and safe in his arms.

"Narcissa, I'm going to get you to St. Mungo's, I ..."

Narcissa only snuggled into his arms, burying her face into his chest, finding safety and calm there. In his arms she could forget the last hours of her life, could ignore the pain. She had no strength left in her. A shudder ran through her and her breathing stopped.

Severus felt her shudder in his embrace. He knew that she … he … they were dangerously running out of time. Immediately he sprang into action. He picked her up and without a second glance back he stormed out of the manor. As soon as he reached the gate he span round and apparated to Grimmauld Place Number 12.

oOoOoOo

Minerva still held Molly in her arms. She could feel the trembling in her friend and knew that Molly was close to breaking down in front of her children. She had to get them both to a more quiet setting. Manoeuvring them both carefully through the people still surrounding them, Minerva stirred them into the salon and firmly closed the door into the worried faces of the Weasley clan and her husband.

"Molly, calm down …" she began to say, trying to reach out to her friend.

"How can I?" Molly exploded into her face. "My daughter has been kidnapped! I don't even want to imagine what this jerk is going to do to my child."

Minerva knew she had made a blunder. All rationality fled a room once a mother faced the very real chance of losing a child. She could remember all too clearly the days when her own children had died or gone missing. Albus had tried to calm her then too, to no avail. She had been inconsolable.

"At least we know she is alive," she said it quietly this time. It really was the only piece of comfort she could offer.

Molly turned away from her and dropped heavily into a chair by the window. "Yes, but for how long?" There was defeat in her voice, resignation in every line of her body.

Minerva couldn't believe her eyes and ears. Molly had been the strong one of them both ever since their ordeal, and now, when her strength and faith were needed the most, she was simply giving up.

"I won't let her die. I won't let him kill her," Minerva said each word clearly, coming over to stand in front of her. "I won't let that happen again. Not to you. Not after I failed you …" Her words died away and suddenly she was scared.

It was scary, her secrets spilled out across the room, like a garbage truck had backed up and dumped its sorry contents across the floor for Molly to sort through. But that wasn't what frightened Minerva the most. It was the way Molly leaned back in her chair and looked off toward the window with her gaze skimming the top of Minerva's head, looking at nothing but the rain outside, her thoughts a nerve-racking mystery.

A fever broke along Minerva's neck.

"I don't mean to be a bad person," she said, and stared at her hands, how they were folded together like hands in prayer. "I can't seem to help it."

She had thought she was totally cried out, but tears beaded again along her lids. "I do all the wrong things. I tell lies, all the time. Not to you, but to Albus. And I hate people. Not just Tom but lots of other people. The other death-eaters for what they have done to us. I hate Lucius Malfoy for taking Virginia – well, for her mere existence. Sometimes I hate Albus for simply standing by me throughout all this, for still loving me. And I hate myself for letting all this happen."

A flood of silence now. It rose like water.

_Look at me. Put your hand back on mine. Say something. Anything!_

By now Minerva's nose was running along with her eyes. She was sniffling, wiping her cheeks, unable to stop her mouth from spewing out every horrible thing she could drum up about herself, and once she was finished … well, if Molly could love her then, if she could say, _Mina, you are still a special flower in God's gardens_, then maybe Minerva would be able to look in the mirror and see it herself.

"But all of that, that's nothing," Minerva said. She was on her feet needing to go someplace, but there was no place to go. They were on an island. A floating island where she spilled out her guts and then hoped she wasn't tossed out to sea to wait for her punishment.

"I –"

Molly was looking at her, waiting. Minerva didn't know if she could say it.

"It was my fault you were raped. I – I didn't protect you. I killed my children or drove them away because I didn't protect them." She sobbed and dropped straight down onto her knees on the rug. It was the first time she had ever said the words to another person, and the sound of them broke open her heart.

Probably one or two moments in one's whole life they will hear a dark whispering spirit, a voice coming from the centre of things. It will have blades for lips and will not stop until it speaks the one secret thing at the heart of it all. Kneeling on the floor, unable to stop shuddering, Minerva heard it plainly. It said, _You are unlovable, Minerva McGonagall. Unlovable. Who could love you? Who in this world could ever love you?_

She sank farther down, onto her heels, hardly aware of herself mumbling the words out loud. "I am unlovable." When she looked up, she Molly standing in front of her, looking down on her. She thought Molly might try to pull her to her feet, but instead she knelt beside Minerva and brushed the hair back from her face.

"Oh, Minerva," she said.

"I let you get raped. I wasn't strong enough," she said, staring straight into Molly's eyes.

"Listen to me now," Molly said, tilting Minerva's chin to her face like she was one of her children. "That's a terrible, terrible thing for you to live with, but you are _not _unlovable. Even though you couldn't protect me like you wanted to, you tried your hardest and you were there for me when I needed to be held. You are still the most dear, most lovable woman I know. Why, Harry, my children, and the rest of your pupils love you. Your colleagues love you. Even Severus, despite his crankiness, loves you. It doesn't take a wizard to see Albus loves you. Mostly, though, I want you to know, _I_ love you. Especially for what happened you did for me then."

Molly stood up, but Minerva stayed where she was, holding Molly's words inside her. "Give me your hand," Molly said, reaching down. Getting to her feet, Minerva felt dizzy around the edges, that feeling like she had stood up too fast.

All this love coming to her. She didn't know what to do with it. She wanted to say, _I love you, too. I love you all. I love Albus very, very much. _The feeling rose up in her like a column of wind, but when it got to her mouth, it had no voice, no words. Just a lot of air and longing.


	14. She's back

_Hey guys! So I finally got myself up and running again. This is a relatively short chapter, but I hope you still enjoy it. Please leave your reviews for me, because I really do like to know your opinions on my work. _**  
**

**She's back**

All this love coming to her. She didn't know what to do with it. She wanted to say, _I love you, too. I love you all. I love Albus very, very much. _The feeling rose up in her like a column of wind, but when it got to her mouth, it had no voice, no words. Just a lot of air and longing.

And finally Minerva understood. Finally it all clicked into place and she found peace for the first time since that mission gone awry. She took a deep, shuddering breath and wrapped her arms around Molly. Kissing her hair softly, Minerva did the bravest thing she had done in a long time, she forgave herself, she accepted the truth. Minerva McGonagall was not infallible, she didn't always have to be strong, she depended on others just like everybody else, and she wanted to be loved above all else. And that was not a weakness, but her greatest strength.

Minerva's arms tightened around Molly and the younger woman could feel the awakening of her friend's old self. For the first time in so long she felt protected by Minerva, consoled by her, and she could draw strength instead of giving it. Her own heart beat stronger with renewed determination. Molly had survived a great deal of hardship without giving up or quitting to fight – she would not do so now.

Gently she pushed Minerva back and stepped around her towards the door, still holding Minerva's hand in hers and drawing her along to get back to the others and start organising a search for her little girl.

"We will find her – we have to – before he does even more damage," she almost absent-mindedly told Minerva … or was she convincing herself?

As they stepped outside, they noticed a sudden increase of activity among the Order. In the midst of a knot of people she saw the imposing figure of Albus Dumbledore.

"Albus." Minerva's breathy whisper reached her ears and she could swear that her friend's voice held the same deep love and trust it had held in the cell at Riddle Manor that first night they had sat huddled together before the worst tortures had happened.

oOoOoOo

_When Molly came round again she was no longer chained to the wall in Lucius bedroom. She lay on the floor of a tiny room and there was another person with her. A person who sobbed almost silently and stroked Molly's back over and over again._

"_Oh Molly, I'm so sorry they got you too. What have they done to you? Oh God and I made it worse …"_

_Minerva McGonagall? That was most definitely her voice. And apparently she thought that Molly was still unconscious. Molly hadn't the heart or the energy to contradict her. She just wanted to lay here and forget – forget what had happened, where she was, who held her captive, and she didn't want to dwell on what would happen next. Minerva's soft hands stroking through her hair helped her to forget. Her soft voice was soothing, like balm for her hurt soul._

_ "… I made it worse, but I won't let them hurt you. They will come looking for us … Albus will come for us. He promised me he would always protect me and love me. He always protected me, even on the day we wed and he told me to keep my maiden name so no one would come after me to get to him. It was very thoughtful of him. All his actions are so very thoughtful. He never forgets an anniversary and always finds time to spend the day with me despite his schedule. Then he holds me in his arms and whispers pleasantries into my ear. I always feel so safe in his arms, so very safe. When I'm in his arms I know that I'm loved and looked after …"_

_Molly's mind drifted off again despite her wish to hear more._

oOoOoOo

Minerva's thoughts seemed to run along the same lines because now she dropped Molly's hand and surged forward, towards Albus, his name tumbling from her lips again.

"Albus." It was a little louder now, but still didn't reach him. She had almost reached him when he turned to the side and called out.

"Poppy!" he roared, causing everyone to step back a little.

Now Molly and Minerva could see Severus kneeling on the floor, holding a bloody, dirty bundle in his arms. As he moved slightly a part of the bundle came undone und tumbles of dirty blonde tresses spilled out. Molly couldn't contain a gasp, even though she pressed her hands to her mouth, as much in shock as in denial she shook her head. Minerva pushed past the Weasley twins, intent on helping her former student and now friend. Her teacher persona came to her aide, for the first time of her rescue, before she could succumb to her worries and be of no help to Narcissa. Reaching Severus with his precious burden, she knelt down beside him. In so doing she noticed Draco standing … hovering anxiously by their side. His eyes were intent on his mother and Minerva saw fear and desperation in his eyes while his hands clenched and unclenched convulsively. She reached out a hand, taking his icy fingers in hers, and drew him gently to her. Softly, so that she wouldn't upset him more, she spoke to him and tried to rouse him from his stupor.

"Mr. Malfoy – Draco, why don't you let Professor Sprout take you to the kitchen and give you a Calming Draught and a spot of tea, while Madam Pomfrey looks after your mother?"

Her voice held the same kind authority as before her ordeal and Draco's sub conscience recognized the tone. He mechanically obeyed her, going woodenly to Professor Sprout and unresistingly let her lead him away.

With a look of joyful recognition, for she too had noticed the tone, Poppy hastened forward and knelt down as well, drawing her wand instantly to cast diagnostic spells and stop the heaviest bleeding. As she wanted to stroke Narcissa's hair away from her face, Severus jerked in apprehension, drawing her closer and giving a half-strangled sob. Before Poppy could reassure him, Minerva laid her hands on his shoulders and gently stroked down his arms, silently beseeching him to relax.

"Let go of her now, Severus. She's safe now. But for Poppy to heal her, you need to let go of Narcissa and let her do it," Minerva spoke gently, in a tone of voice Albus recognized as the same tone she had used with their own children when they had been scared. And, as had their children, Severus slowly relaxed under the gentle stroking of Minerva's hands.

For a long moment Severus just stared at Minerva, wordlessly and with hollow eyes, then he hesitantly and with obvious effort lowered Narcissa to the plush carpet on which he knelt. He stared at his former professor, his colleague, and nodded once, swallowing as he did so. "I don't want to lose her," he admitted quietly, looking down at his blood-soaked cloak and starting to tremble.

"And you won't," Minerva said with conviction.

Albus was dumbstruck. Minerva acted and sounded like she had before her captivity. He hadn't seen his wife like this in what felt like ages to him. With a frown he wondered what had happened when Molly had led her away … and why it had been her again. Why had she found the right words to say when he had fought patiently and lovingly for his wife all those past months? He shook his head. It shouldn't matter. Only the fact that Minerva seemed to be herself again should matter – but he couldn't quiet shake his jealousy. Before the abduction he and Minerva had been as close as two people could possibly be – their own children had often remarked on that, saying there was no room for them between their parents – and now they couldn't be farther apart at times; now Molly was closer to Minerva than he could hope to be, now it was her who knew Minerva's secrets, her feelings, her worries and not him anymore.

He sighed – and it was audible in the silence of the entrance hall after his bellow. Minerva looked up at him and sent him a warm smile. Her eyes were alight with love, the kind of love he had missed seeing there all those past months. Molly disappeared from his thoughts instantly and his mind focused on his wife. Her smile widened and she seemed to forget the others around them for a while. Slowly she got up from the floor again and stood in front of him. There was no residual fear in her eyes this time, only trust … and hesitation.

"Oh mo chride ( = Gaelic, my heart), I hurt you so," she whispered softly, reaching out a hand and bringing it up to his face. Gently she cupped his bearded cheek, her fingers entangling in his white hair, and drew his face the few inches down to her face. She simply looked into his eyes, meeting his gaze openly, letting him see the innermost recesses of her heart and soul, the open wounds there, the crumpled ruins of her defensive barriers. She was bare before him. Minerva saw no rejection in his eyes – and by God she could understand if he repudiated her – and hope flickered in her heart, maybe not all was lost, maybe there was still hope to salvage their marriage. She dearly hoped so, but this was not the place or the time to have a heart-to-heart with her husband. She sighed and stroked Albus' cheek softly. How badly she wanted to hear 'I love you' from him … Raising herself up onto her toes, she pressed a tender but nevertheless uncertain, close-mouthed kiss to his lips. "We will talk soon, mo luaidh ( = Gaelic, my darling). Now we have to help Narcissa first. Will you take care of Severus? There should be a drop of Firewhiskey in the Salon, I'm sure Remus and Sirius will join you."

Albus was stunned into silence. Minerva took his breath away, as she had always done with her determination, her inner strength. It was back now. She was back now. Finally.


	15. Broken Limbs and Broken Hearts

A.N.: Finally another chapter! Yay! Another filler until we return to the search for Ginger, but this one deals with all the emotions of my protagonists. So enjoy and please leave me a review.

**Broken Limbs & Broken Hearts**

Severus was more nervous than ever before in his life … 'Well, not true,' a small part of his brain reminded him, 'you were more nervous after entering Lilly's house in Godric's Hollow after the Dark Lord's attack.' But then he had been almost certain, could clearly picture the horrible truth, that Lilly was dead. Narcissa, though, was not dead … yet … ever … hopefully … oh, God, please, don't let her die!

It most certainly was the first time he prayed, fervently and desperately.

He hadn't allowed himself the luxury to acknowledge his true feelings for this incredible woman, who had somehow stolen his heart despite the heavy barricades around it. Not so much because he felt that he was betraying Lilly's memory, but because he seemed to be a jinx. The women he loved were befallen by nothing but heartache, pain, and near certain death; 'no trumpets or angel's singing, that's for damn sure,' he thought darkly.

"Come here and sit down … you're making me queasy watching you." Suddenly Sirius stood in front of him, with both hands on his shoulders and persistently pushing him towards and onto the couch. Remus was right behind his best friend. He pressed a glass of Firewhiskey into Severus' hands and helped him to take a sip. All former animosity seemed to be forgotten between them.

Albus was glad to see this development. He had always said that they were only as strong as they were united. It was only unfortunate that something as horrible as Narcissa's broken form had been needed to bring those three together. Of course, both Sirius and Severus had a vested interest in the woman's welfare. It was plain as the crooked nose on his face that Severus had, almost against his will, fallen in love with her. As for Sirius, Narcissa Malfoy, née Black, was the only surviving and sane relative left to him. Recently they had become close again; not as they had been as young children, but a lot closer than since her marriage. Tentatively Narcissa had sought her cousin out and apologized for the way the family had treated him and applauded his courage to leave when he did, only regretting that she hadn't shown the same strength. Now it seemed that she would need all her strength and her cousin's to see her through.

Albus sighed heavily. The evil, that Tom Riddle had planted in the hearts of his followers, hadn't died with him. He had hoped that isolating them from the Wizarding World, stranding them without magic, would somehow alter their views, make them re-evaluate their priorities and loyalties. In some cases it had already shown the desired effect. Of course, Aurors observed them and made sure they weren't up to no good. Whoever had guard duty the day Lucius gave them the slip would have to answer to him! A dangerous glint appeared in his eyes and his wand hand clenched into a fist. He was brought out of his thoughts by Severus' voice.

"What do I do if she dies?" It was a pitiful question – one that Albus had asked himself during Minerva's captivity and recovery.

"For a start; she isn't dead," Sirius' voice could have cut through steel. "She'll be fine. Madame Pomfrey stitched both Molly and Professor McGonagall together … and they were worse, much worse. All you can do … and will do, if I have anything to say in the matter … is to be there when she wakes up and be strong for her." Sirius' determination was catching.

"And if not for her, then for her son," added Remus from behind Sirius. He had observed the scene between the two childhood enemies, but also Albus. The older man seemed to relive every painful second of the last months with their uncertainty of his wife's welfare. One of the things that had held Albus upright, apart from hope, had been looking out for his students and drowning out his own worries by focusing on those of the children. What was good for the headmaster, was surely good for his teachers as well.

"Yes, you should concentrate on right now and how best to support them. Deal with the rest when and if it arises." Sound advice … especially coming from Sirius Black.

oOoOoOo

At the same time in another room of Headquarters, Poppy was steadily casting spell after spell – replenishing blood as fast as she could to make up for every ounce Narcissa had lost, healing innumerable cuts and bruises. The broken bones would need more attention later to set them right. Poppy's hands didn't tremble as they examined her newfound friend even though her thoughts sometimes drifted to the wishful thinking of cursing Lucius Malfoy. That bastard hadn't hurt one of the people she held dear but three and, as God was her witness, he would pay for it.

"How are her chances, Poppy?"

Minerva's voice broke through her dark thoughts and made Poppy jump slightly. Pressing a now trembling hand over her heart and resuming to cast spells, Poppy couldn't quite meet Minerva's observant gaze as she answered, "A better chance than Molly and …" She trailed off, realizing suddenly just what she had been about to say. Her head bowed and she fervently wished a hole would swallow her … or at least her loose tongue.

Minerva, though, didn't react in the way Poppy had come to expect in the last months. She felt how her friend laid a hand on her shoulder and heard her genuine answer.

"I am glad to hear that. Severus mentioned heart-failure earlier. What caused it?"

"Primarily her blood loos and a state of shock her body had entered. The broken bones will be mended with a bit more focus, but I needed to heal the cuts first and stop the blood flow. Now I can take my time setting her bones."

"Why is she still unconscious?"

"Her body shut down from the overload of pain … like yours had." The last words were whispered hoarsely and again her head was bowed, not out of concentration but fear of meeting her friend's gaze. She felt wretched about bringing it up again. Finally Minerva seemed back to her old self and she had to bring the nightmares back by carelessly mentioning past horrors.

Yet again Minerva didn't flinch or scream or turn around and run as fast as she could away from Poppy. She nodded slowly. Her eyes held a sad expression, but not the haunted look of inner pain of the last months. "Can you alleviate the pain enough to make coming around easier?" she asked softly, leaning over and taking Narcissa's hand gently. Slowly her fingers wrapped around hers and her thumb began stroking over Narcissa's pulse point, reassuring herself that her friend was truly alive and staying alive.

"Well, I spelled a sedative into her system to make healing her easier, on the both of us," Poppy replied evenly. "As soon as I have mended her bones, I let her wake up." She looked up then and saw the almost anxious expression on Minerva's face. Her heart went out to the other woman. After upsetting her earlier, she now wanted to make it better. "She'll be alright, Minerva. That bastard did damage, but nothing lasting and nothing she hasn't had to endure before … from what she told Molly."

oOoOoOo

Draco was pacing through the kitchen in increasingly smaller circles. He was almost painfully aware of the eyes following him – not hostile like all the times before, but rather sympathetic. Especially his Professor was eying him worriedly. Professor Sprout worried her lip with her teeth and tried to come up with something reassuring to say. There was nothing. Draco only wanted to hear that his mother would survive and be well again.

"She'll be fine, mate," one of the twins – he couldn't tell which – said, obviously steered by pity for him. That stopped him short. Maybe not pity. If anyone could understand what he felt at the moment, it would be the Weasley children. His father – the man to whom he had looked up all his life – the lunatic who had betrayed his trust – the bastard who had done terrible deeds in the name of the Dark Lord – had not only hurt his own mother but their mother as well. His guts turned to ice and he was suddenly frozen in place.

"Oh God!" It fell from his lips, which were suddenly numb, in a hoarse whisper. His eyes searched the Weasleys' faces for a trace of kindness. In the second oldest – he believed his name to be Charles – he found kindness and compassion. His eyes locked with Charles' and he asked quietly. "How did you get through this when your mother …?" He couldn't finish the question.

But he didn't have to. Ron answered him, almost gently, "We had good and kind friends to lean onto."

Draco hung his head. He had no friends … not real ones. Crabbe and Goyle had turned away from him and all the other children at school feared and despised him.

"I envy you. You're never alone."

They could all hear the desolation in his voice and at that moment they did pity him.

"Well, you shouldn't," Harry spoke clearly into the bleak silence that had fallen over the kitchen. "You're not alone … you're one of us now."

Behind Draco Professor Sprout's face broke out into a bright smile and she nodded at Harry, mouthing clearly, 'Spoken like a true Huffelpuff.'


End file.
